


For Want of a Guide

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:06:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sentinel Detective Jim Ellison doesn't want a Guide - ever.<br/>Until he does....</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Want of a Guide

**Author's Note:**

> This is a much more sombre story than I usually write. Normally I prefer to use the concept of the AU in which to write a much nicer Jim than the canon one tends to be IMHO. But this time, I wasn't so charitable. Must be the weather :)) However, although there isn't much in the way of sweetness and light, as usual there's no death either, so take heart.  
> Kate x

**Part 1: The Ultimatum:**   


**Cascade General Hospital, ER:**  


Perched awkwardly on the edge of a gurney, Sentinel Detective James ‘Jim’ Ellison felt like shit. The headache from hell thundered between his temples, and the excruciating pain from beneath the bandages swathing his shoulder was far worse than should have been expected even for the deep crease gouged out of his flesh by the bullet that so nearly took him out. His pain dials were obstinately refusing to cooperate, and he was in no mood for the haranguing that he knew was his due. Glowering ferociously, he looked up to meet the furious glare directed at him by his long-suffering boss and friend, Captain Simon Banks of Cascade Central PD’s Major Crimes Unit. 

Seeing the big man draw breath, undoubtedly with the intention of bawling him out, Jim attempted to pre-empt the verbal strike by growling out, “OK, OK! I know already! It was a mistake, all right? It won’t happen again!” 

Only slightly distracted, Simon responded anyhow, and Jim was struck with a pang of guilt as he recognised the real concern that warred with the anger and exasperation on the captain’s dark-skinned features. 

“Too damn right it won’t happen again, Ellison! This was too close. You could have been killed, man, and if it hadn’t been for Joel, that shot would have taken you between the eyes instead of the shoulder. Or worse. It could have hit Joel, and how would you feel about that?” 

Now genuinely remorseful, Jim looked away and down, shame now uppermost in his expression as he answered, his voice roughened with emotion. 

“Yeah, I know, sir. And I’m sorrier than I can say that it nearly came to that. You’re right. I’d never forgive myself if someone got killed because of my stupidity, especially a good man like Joel.” 

Raising his eyes again, he continued doggedly with the explanation his boss deserved to hear, the remorse in his tone eliciting a noticeable softening in the other man’s demeanour. 

“I have no excuse really. It’s just that, well, I thought I had the senses under real control after all this time. The dampening medication makes me feel like shit, and I thought I could safely cut down on the dosage. Obviously I was wrong. Like I said, it won’t happen again. I just want to keep doing my job to the best of my ability, and if that means having a permanent hangover from the meds, then I guess that’s what I have to do.” 

Warm, dark eyes now full of sympathy, Simon closed the distance between them and reached out to squeeze Jim’s uninjured shoulder with a large but gentle hand. 

“I understand, Jim. I really do. My cousin was exactly the same; described to me the same stuff. 

“But it doesn’t have to be like that, Jim. If only you’d reconsider finding yourself a guide. Or even agree to work with someone who understands you on a permanent basis. You’re my best detective, man, and my friend also. I just want you to achieve everything of which you’re capable. 

“I want you to be happy, Jim. Happy and safe.” 

Jim’s slight grin was rueful as he responded, although he appreciated the sentiment behind his friend’s words. “I know you do, Simon, and I hear what you’re saying. But you know me, man. I’m a loner. I like my solitude, and I can think of nothing worse than having a whining guide under my feet and in my home. I _do_ realise that I could achieve so much more if I could use my abilities to their fullest extent, but I can’t even begin to imagine how much impact a relationship with such a person would have on my home and social life. Hell, Simon, just ask Carolyn! We knew almost from day one that our marriage was a huge mistake. I’m just surprised we put up with each other for the few months we did without killing each other. We’re so much better now we can just be friends and work colleagues. I couldn’t let her in, Simon. It wasn’t her fault. I just didn’t want to open up to her.” 

“But surely having a guide wouldn’t be the same, Jim? I mean, for a start you’d need to be genetically compatible, so wouldn’t that mean that you’d both be better placed to accept each other at the deepest level, warts and all? The attraction has to be mutual for the partnership to work, if I understand correctly. Why do you persist in your assertion that there’s no one out there for you?” 

Suddenly drained by the pain of his –albeit minor – injury, and by the unwanted emotional blood-letting Simon’s words had initiated, Jim sighed deeply, and effectively terminated the discussion. 

“Let it go, please, Simon? I have my reasons, some of which you’re aware of, and some of which are my own business. I don’t want to be rude, but I need to get home. Once I’ve gotten cleaned up and taken my meds” – this said with a pained grimace – “I’ll come back in and write up my report, OK?” 

And there really wasn’t much Simon could do but reluctantly acquiesce to Jim’s request, although he had no intention of abandoning the subject completely. Time enough to raise it again once Jim was in a more receptive frame of mind – if indeed he ever was. 

“OK Jim, but I’ll drive you back to the loft myself. Joel’s already taken your truck back to the PD, and I’m sure you don’t want to hang around for a cab. Come on, my friend,” and he held out his hand to help his somewhat shaky subordinate down from the gurney, simply draping the other man’s leather jacket around his bare shoulders for a modicum of protection since Jim’s sweater and tee were history, having been cut off him by the attending medics. 

“Pity about the damage, Jim,” he murmured conversationally as he gently fingered the jagged tear in the soft, well-worn leather. 

“Yeah. This was my favourite jacket,” came the wry response, and the pair made their way out to where Simon’s sedan awaited; their easy camaraderie more or less restored once again.  


\-----------------------------------  


On the short drive back to Jim’s loft apartment, Simon tactfully refrained from trying to converse with his passenger, since as soon as Jim had settled into his seat; his head had fallen back wearily against the headrest. He had turned his pale and drawn face slightly away from Simon’s worried gaze, eyes closed as he worked on his breathing exercises in an attempt to regain control of his dials. 

Pulling smoothly away from the hospital parking lot, Simon concentrated on his driving, giving Jim the space he needed to process the events of the morning. 

As far as Simon was concerned, the potential tragedy which could so easily have occurred when a seemingly minor incident went to hell in a hand basket in the blink of an eye was pretty much par for the course for the personnel of Cascade’s Major Crimes Unit. Having said that, it didn’t make every such incident any less traumatic for those involved, or for their captain, and none of them could ever afford to relax their vigilance. It was an elite squad, places in which were highly sought after by eager applicants, and Simon was proud to be at its head, but he would never take his responsibilities lightly. He cared deeply for every member of his team, and had a particular soft spot for his resident sentinel, even if said sentinel was only working at a fraction of his innate potential. Even that amount was enough to ensure that Ellison had the highest arrest and conviction rate in the PD, enough to make him the unwilling recipient of the ‘Cop of the Year’ award for the past three years in a row. 

Lips thinning as a frown of irritation wrinkled his brow, Simon pondered on his subordinate’s bitter intransigence on the subject of guides. It was all well and good accepting that the man had his own views on the subject, but that didn’t make Simon feel any less determined to try and get Jim to change his mind. He was well aware that his determination wasn’t all down to altruism. A fully functioning sentinel and guide pairing was a joy to behold; the ultimate example of seamless teamwork, and much prized by any sector of public service worthy of the name. Such a pairing would be a huge enhancement for the MCU, and Simon’s standing within it, and he knew it. 

But until Jim truly embraced his gifts it wasn’t going to happen, and Simon sighed deeply at the depressing thought. 

As for Jim, his concentrated efforts at centring himself had finally begun to pay off, and he was able to wrestle his pain dial down to an acceptable level. He was only too aware that a guide’s input would have enabled him to do so in a fraction of the time and effort, but he stubbornly refused to listen to his inner sentinel’s insistent mutterings to that effect. As he had told Simon time and time again, he had his own reasons for denying himself the luxury of such a partnership, and most of those reasons had to do with his less-than-perfect childhood. 

Relaxing gratefully into his seat, he took a moment to contemplate his life thus far, for once subjecting himself to as objective an examination as possible, even if it proved to be painful. Today’s incident had shaken him more than he had thought possible and he felt compelled to consider where his future might lie. 

He was honest enough to admit to himself that the combination of pain and shame arising from his humiliating performance today was making him far more antsy than usual, but there was no denying that he resented the hell out of being a sentinel. As far as he was concerned, the gift was a burden he could do without, despite acknowledging that it made him a far better cop with the potential to be a great one. 

Oh yes, he was well informed about the whole sentinel phenomenon – how could he not be when everyone around him seemed to continuously labour the point in his hearing, harping on endlessly about how lucky he was to be amongst that fortunate minority - but he didn’t appreciate their efforts in the slightest. He couldn’t help but ponder on how different he might have felt if he had been born a member of an indigenous or pre-industrialised tribe. Now that was something he could appreciate, having spent eighteen months with the Chopec tribe in Peru. It was during that time that his latent gift had manifested itself after all, and with the help of the local shaman, Incacha, he had learned to use it for the benefit of his temporary hosts. 

Individuals with enhanced senses had always been revered in such societies. They were watchmen, protectors, trackers, organic weather detectors and so much more, and were jealously guarded in their turn by the rest of the tribe. Working alongside a helpmeet or ‘guide’, they had long been accepted and highly prized for their contribution to the tribe’s daily existence. It was the guide’s role to provide his sentinel with a comfortable environment as well as watching his back while he used his senses, grounding him with voice and touch and preventing him from falling into a fugue state or ‘zone’. These zones could occur when the sentinel got lost in one sense to the exclusion of all else, thus leaving himself and others open to danger; something that a compatible guide could bring him out of quickly and easily. 

However, it had to be said that over the centuries, more so-called ‘civilised’, increasingly sophisticated societies either ignored or forgot the lore behind the phenomenon, and in their ignorance frequently suspected such individuals of witchcraft or insanity, or at the very least of being pathological liars, claiming to see and hear things that should be impossible. Even after Sir Richard Burton, the Victorian explorer, effectively ‘rediscovered’ sentinels during his nineteenth century travels in South America, the resulting monograph, ‘The Sentinels of Paraguay’, was generally disparaged by his peers. Its significance was only recognised at a much later date when individuals with heightened senses continued to manifest, although in far fewer numbers; possibly because there was less need for their gifts in an increasingly technological and materialistic modern world. Jim sneered internally as he reflected on the fact that, even as recently as fifty years ago, on-line sentinels were still being misdiagnosed as schizophrenic, or even epileptic when they zoned, which they frequently did without a guide to ground them. 

It was certainly true that by now scientists had finally begun to understand what made a sentinel tick. They had discovered the genetic variation which could lead to anything from one to all five senses being enhanced, and had devised a system for testing and calibrating the range of such hypersensitivity. More importantly still, they now recognised both the importance of the role of the guide, and realised that those same guides were also born and not made, as had previously been assumed. An amenable or simply convenient assigned partner could only provide a certain degree of assistance, and was a poor substitute for the real thing. 

And because they now understood just how difficult it was for a sentinel to exist from day to day without the benefit of such a partner, great strides had been made in manufacturing suitable medication with which to artificially control or dampen those senses until such time as a compatible guide could be found. 

Jim was well aware of all of this, but as far as he was concerned, he still hated his ‘condition’ with a vengeance. 

It may well be that society mostly appreciated their sentinels, but to some people, the ability was more trouble than it was worth. And Jim’s father, William Ellison had been just such a one. 

A hard-working, ruthless businessman, he had no time for the arcane. When his wife left him with two small sons to raise single-handed, he determined to mould them in his own image, constantly pitting them against each other and exhorting them to eschew softer emotions. When Jim was diagnosed as having the sentinel gene, far from embracing his son’s gift, William considered it to be a useless burden, and constantly pressured the child to suppress it. He even went so far as referring to Jim as a freak of nature, and went out of his way to conceal the information regarding Jim’s ability from his business cronies and golfing buddies at the Country Club. 

Unsurprisingly, Jim finally had enough, and as soon as he was old enough, he packed his bags and left the family home, never to return. A generally successful and rewarding few years in the armed forces had been followed by a career in Cascade PD, and during almost all that time, with the exception of his months with the Chopec, Jim had done his best to suppress his senses with a reasonable degree of success as he had always been encouraged to do by Daddy dearest. 

However, some months ago his senses had come fully online again after a protracted lone stakeout, and this time he had had no success in shutting them off again. Worse still, without medication his control was slipping more and more every day despite his best efforts and claims to the contrary. Today’s near disaster had proved the point only too well, so now it looked as if he was going to have to either bow to the inevitable and find himself a guide, or accept increasingly strong doses of dampeners to contain senses growing ever more unruly from day to day. 

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, life right now, as far as he was concerned, truly sucked.  


\----------------------------------  


A short while later, Simon pulled up outside Jim’s building at 852 Prospect. 

“You need me to come up with you, Jim?” he asked, eyes reflecting his genuine concern. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine, thanks all the same, Simon. I’ll wash up a bit, get a change of clothes and take my meds like a good boy, and as soon as I’m ready, I’ll come on down to the PD.” 

“Fair enough, Jim, if you’re sure. Tell you what, though. I’ll ask Joel to come pick you up since your truck’s at the PD. Will an hour be long enough for you?” 

“Yeah, more than enough, Simon, especially if I don’t have to drive just yet. Later, then,” and he grinned tiredly at his captain as he climbed a little stiffly out of the car. He knew Simon was watching him as he made his way into his building, but concentrated his efforts on getting up to his loft apartment as quickly as possible, needing the calm refuge of his territory where he could lick his wounds in private and work on regaining his equilibrium, albeit with the aid of the hated meds.   


\--------------------------------  


A short while later it was a very different looking Jim who opened the door to Joel’s knock. Showered, changed and once more in control of his dials, thanks to the hefty dose of medication he had been forced to take, the pain in his shoulder was now reduced to a dull ache rather than the previous debilitating agony. Although truly grateful for the respite, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the deep and growing irritation he harboured towards the muffled, slightly nauseous side-effects the dampeners left him with. 

Nevertheless, he forced himself to grin wryly at his colleague as he opened the door, fleetingly considering that, if his senses were working at full capacity, he would have heard the man approach the building from some considerable distance and wouldn’t have needed him to announce his arrival. 

His normally genial features pinched in anxiety, Joel studied Jim carefully as he spoke. 

“Are you really OK, Jim? Simon told me that it was just a flesh wound, but with your senses wide open, that must have hurt! I was really worried there, man. I thought for a moment I was too late. I thought Michelson had the drop on us for sure.” 

“Yeah, well, he wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t been such an ass, Joel. I’m sorry, my friend. I thought I didn’t need the dampeners, and I was wrong. I could have gotten you killed, Joel, while I was off in la-la land. You saved my life for sure, and I won’t forget it.” 

“No problem, Jim. You’d do the same for me,” the big ex-Bomb Squad Captain-turned-MCU detective replied generously. 

“So, are you good to go? Simon wants your report if you’re up to it.” 

“I’m up to it, Joel. Although right now it’s about all I’m up to!” Jim replied ruefully. “Let’s hope at the end of the day he’s as forgiving as you are, or I’m in deep shit!” and, sharing a companionable chuckle, the pair left to return to the PD to complete the necessary paperwork.  


\-----------------------------------  


**Some days later, Captain Banks’ office, Major Crimes Unit:**  


“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me, sir! No way is that fair! How the hell can you justify that?” 

Jim Ellison’s heated words issued forth in the roar of an infuriated primal sentinel, and were easily heard by the occupants of the bullpen outside Simon Banks’ inner sanctum. Unsurprisingly, an immediate hush fell over the room as Jim’s colleagues listened in unashamedly to the alpha male pissing contest going on behind their boss’ closed door. True, many of them counted themselves as friends of the irascible detective, despite his prickly nature, and were genuinely concerned for his future in Major Crimes. 

On the other hand, there were those who Ellison had pissed off once too often, and who resented his elevated status within the unit, especially since he was apparently so ungrateful for the gift with which he was born. For them, the fact that at last the unwilling sentinel was finally getting his comeuppance was a cause for quiet celebration. 

Within the office, Jim couldn’t believe his ears. Banks had called him in on his arrival even before he had made it over to his desk, the deeply troubled expression on Simon’s dark features boding ill for his subordinate such that Jim instinctively straightened his spine and prepared for battle. And as it turned out, he was right to be concerned. 

As soon as Jim was seated, Simon cut to the chase without any preliminary chitchat. He had been given an ultimatum by both the Chief of Police and the Commissioner, and he was in no mood to procrastinate. Ellison was going to go ballistic as soon as he heard the decision from above, so there was no point in trying to soften the blow. 

“Right then, Jim. I’ve just returned from an early morning meeting with both the Chief and the Commissioner, and this is how it’s going to be. They have the Mayor and public opinion to deal with on top of everything else, so they’re taking no prisoners. 

“Now, before you erupt, just listen for a moment, OK? First off, they both appreciate your contribution to Major Crimes, and the PD as a whole. Your rep as ‘Cop of the Year’ has been well-earned, no doubt about it. 

“But it has become more and more apparent that your performance of late has been affected by your unruly senses, to the point where you are becoming a liability. The episode with Joel last week was the tipping point, and they are no longer convinced that you should be out alone on the street any more. 

“The fact is, you need a guide, Jim. And until you get one, you’re on desk duty. No argument,” but even as he spoke he knew that was exactly what he was going to get, and he wasn’t disappointed. Mount Ellison erupted on cue, and for a moment Simon thought it might even get physical as the furious man virtually leapt from his seat. 

Almost incandescent with pure rage and disbelief, the expression on Jim’s face was terrifying to behold. His burning glare seared Simon and the muscles in his jaw jumped and twitched with the force of his clenched teeth such that Simon wouldn’t have been surprised if the very enamel cracked under the pressure. The well-defined muscles of Ellison’s impressive chest and arms bulged with tension and that, plus the flexed knees and taloned fingers gave the impression that the primal sentinel within intended to spring into action and tear Banks limb from limb. There was just enough of the rational man left in Jim to contain the instinctive, violent reaction, but it was a close-run thing. Spinning around, Jim stalked to the window, fighting for control before turning back to face his boss. 

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me, sir! No way is that fair! How the hell can you justify that?” 

But Simon could be just as stubborn, and he wasn’t going to back down, even in the face of Ellison’s naked aggression. 

“No kidding, Ellison. And if you really think about it, it _is_ fair. You yourself have said that you’d never forgive yourself if someone was hurt on your watch just because you couldn’t control your senses. The amount of medication you’re having to take now dulls you almost to below normal performance, while without it you zone. 

“Face facts, Jim, and start looking for a guide. You can start by going to Rainier. There’s a dedicated Sentinel and Guide research unit attached to the Anthropology Department. They’ll be able to point you in the right direction.” 

For long moments, the two men continued to glare at each other, before Jim finally looked away. He was still deeply angry, but taking it out on Banks wasn’t going to help him any, and at the end of the day he would hate himself if he hurt his boss and friend, because friend he still was. Jim was honest enough to recognise that the man genuinely cared what happened to him even if Jim himself bitterly resented the situation. 

“Fine. If that’s the way it’s going to be, I guess I have no alternative. Permission to leave, sir?” 

Anger and indignation coloured the barely civil request, and Simon sighed with a mixture of relief at the averted confrontation and real concern for Jim’s state of mind. 

“Permission granted, Jim. And good luck.” 

Jim nodded brusquely and exited the office, his back ramrod stiff as he stalked through the bullpen, looking to neither right nor left as he slammed through the main door to the corridor, unaware of the curious eyes following his retreat. 

Minutes later he was in his truck and heading for Rainier. And even if he himself didn’t recognise his own actions for what they were, to an objective, informed observer it would be obvious. 

The primal Sentinel in Jim Ellison was on the hunt.  


\----------------------------------  


**Blair:**  


Blair Sandburg, wunderkind grad student in Anthropology and TA _extraordinaire_ was feeling hyper-anxious and unaccountably antsy. Today, in less than an hour’s time, he would be defending his doctoral dissertation, and his nerves stubbornly refused to cooperate as the young man tried to find his centre. It wasn’t that he really believed that he’d fail, although of course that was a very remote possibility. In fact, for the most part, his state of mind was more of eager anticipation for the upcoming debate rather than trepidation over the examination, but there was something else – something he couldn’t pinpoint – which was also playing on his subconscious for which he had no explanation. Seated in his aged classic Corvair in the parking lot near his destination, Rainier University’s Hargrove Hall, he breathed deeply and tried to relax. 

This wouldn’t do. He knew he had always had an over-active imagination, but he simply couldn’t shake the hackle-raising sensation of being watched. And the skin between his shoulder blades itched and twitched as if there was an invisible target painted on his back. 

_Come on, Sandburg! Give it up, why don’t you? It’s only nerves. Who’d be interested in watching you anyway? Get with the programme, shift your ass and get moving. You’ve got a meeting to make._

Chastising himself firmly for his stupidity, he glanced at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, checking yet again the suitability of his attire for the momentous occasion ahead. 

His abundant curls were tamed and secured in a tight ponytail at his nape, and the unaccustomed formal shirt and tie felt uncomfortably constricting as he ran a finger around his collar. He was wearing his only decent sport coat, and had abandoned his comfortable, well-worn jeans for smart/casual pressed pants and a pair of second-hand but respectable-looking dress shoes. All in all he figured he looked appropriately tidy, and was probably as uncomfortable as he had ever felt. 

With a brisk nod, he climbed determinedly out of his car, grabbing his elderly backpack from the passenger seat before closing the door and locking his precious vehicle behind him. 

“Hey, Blair, man! Don’t you scrub up well!” 

His attention was attracted by the loud but friendly voice of one of his fellow TAs, who was approaching from across the parking lot. Marcus Reading was grinning widely as he looked Blair up and down unselfconsciously, apparently liking what he saw. The young man was unashamedly gay, and had lusted after Blair for years even though he was ruefully aware that Blair didn’t reciprocate in the same way. It didn’t prevent them from being good friends, however, and Blair was pleased to see him. 

“Yeah, well, that’s good of you to say, man, but I feel like a dork. But it’s the best I can come up with. Do you really think it’s OK?” and Blair’s deep-seated lack of self-confidence was briefly revealed in his slightly anxious question. 

Knowing his friend only too well, Marcus answered honestly. “You look just fine, kiddo. Stop worrying. You’ll be Doctor Sandburg in no time, I’m sure of it. And no one deserves it more, Blair. You’ll be the youngest tenured professor Rainier’s ever had, no doubt about it.” 

“Thanks, Marcus. I’m not convinced it’ll come to that, but it’s nice to hear you say it. It’ll be a dream come true, for sure, if I succeed.” 

Taking Blair’s arm, the taller man tucked it beneath his own and escorted his friend up the steps of Hargrove Hall, radiating nothing but bonhomie and supreme confidence in his companion. 

“Not a dream for much longer, kiddo. You’ll knock ‘em out, love.” 

And Blair chose to believe him as he allowed himself to be ushered through Hargrove’s imposing front doors.  


\---------------------------  


Having taken his leave of Marcus, Blair made his way down to his tiny office space which he shared with the contents of Artefact Storage Room 3. Office space for lowly TAs was at a premium in the Anthropology Department, but no one had seemed to mind when Blair quietly appropriated part of the room some months ago, and he had remained there ever since. 

Depositing his backpack by the battered and cluttered desk, he sank down in his elderly office chair and treated himself to a few more minutes of quiet contemplation before heading to the meeting with his dissertation committee which would undoubtedly decide the direction of the next stage of his academic life. 

The brief interlude with his friend had done much to dispel his uncharacteristic unease for the most part, and he was able to concentrate instead on preparing himself and getting his mind suitably settled. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to fail, but exactly how the university would react to their newest PhD recipient was the question. If he was very lucky, he would be offered a permanent place on the staff with tenure not far down the line, and if that were the case, then he figured that Naomi Sandburg’s little boy hadn’t done too badly. 

The only son of an itinerant, hippy single mom, Blair had travelled the world following in his parent’s footsteps in her never-ending quest for love and spiritual enlightenment. A brilliant child, he had eagerly soaked up the many cultures and countries he had visited, experiences which had undoubtedly sparked his love of anthropology. In an uncertain existence, the love of learning was a constant which had supported and comforted him when his mom failed to do so, mostly, it had to be said, because she was simply incapable of deep, maternal feelings. A self-centred, social butterfly, he knew she loved him in her own way, but he never quite shook off the notion that he was an encumbrance she could have done without. He knew that he was the unplanned result of a lifestyle that had embraced free love, drugs and rock and roll. Naomi had even claimed that she didn’t know for certain the identity of Blair’s father, declaring that it was unimportant anyway, and that Blair was a ‘child of the world’. They only needed themselves and the company of like-minded friends in order to live life to the full. 

However, Blair’s inner cynic occasionally reared its ugly head, and he was forced to wonder why, if that was the case, did she often leave her only son behind with nary a backward glance when she visited retreats and communes where children weren’t welcome. At such times, the child Blair would wonder if she would really come back for him, and it was hardly surprising that he developed a deep-seated sense of insecurity which persisted even now. In his darkest moments he even wondered why she hadn’t aborted him in the first place, given her desire for personal freedom. But then he would remind himself that, whatever her faults, Naomi was above all a gentle soul who would never willingly hurt or destroy any form of life. 

He also learned very quickly not to give too much of himself for fear of being hurt. He saw the endless trail of heart-broken would-be suitors Naomi left in her wake, and determined that he would never do the same. He was affable and good-natured, engaging and bright or self-effacing and silent as circumstances required; effortlessly integrating into the many and varied environments in which he found himself; but for his own protection he kept his heart to himself and learned never to rely on the goodwill of strangers. 

And he would never outstay his welcome, quickly learning to recognise the signs and leave voluntarily before he could be thrown out. 

It was inevitable that eventually he would rebel against such an uncertain existence, but it was done in such a way that Naomi wasn’t overly upset. She truly didn’t understand that her gentle son needed some stability in his life, but was persuaded that his desire to put down roots in Cascade and take up his studies at Rainier University at the tender age of fifteen was simply a part of his ‘growing experience’. And it would, after all, allow her to ‘detach with love’ and continue on her way unencumbered once again. 

It had to be said that Blair’s decision had nearly backfired on him within weeks of being granted a place at Rainier. Too young and too smart, he was generally snubbed by his peers even though his teachers loved him, and Blair soon found out just how lonely life on campus could be. However, just as he had been on the point of packing up and trying to trace Naomi, he had come to the attention of none other than Dr Eli Stoddard, one of the world’s leading anthropologists, and Blair’s personal hero. Eli was charmed by the young student, and virtually adopted him; encouraging and nurturing the boy’s precocious talent and boosting his already developing interest in anthropology, and in particular, the study of sentinel lore. By the age of twenty, Blair had his Bachelor’s and his Master’s Degrees under his belt, the latter thesis being on the subject of Tribal Sentinels, and now, at the tender age of twenty three, he was about to defend his dissertation on the subject of Modern Sentinels and their evolving role within western society. 

Taking a deep breath, Blair opened his eyes and turned his full attention to that subject, deciding that trawling through his memories and reliving the past was no way to dissipate the niggling paranoia which still lurked at the back of his mind. He thought instead about the time he had spent in the Fire Department, accompanying the sentinel and guide team who rode the fire truck, and also following a pair who worked together as EMTs. The months in their company, experiencing vicariously life in the Fire and Rescue Service as seen through their eyes and using their particular skills had enthralled him, and he had nothing but admiration and awe for the whole department. 

He had hoped to spend a similar period in the PD, but had been turned down on account of the fact that the most talented sentinel working at Cascade Central was an unbonded detective, and it wouldn’t have been practical or seemly for Blair to ride with him. For the simple reason that Blair was himself a latent guide, and the temptation might have proved to be too great for the sentinel to deal with. 

Grinning wryly, Blair reflected on that fact for a moment longer before preparing to leave for his defence. He had been routinely tested on entering the University, and had been thoroughly amazed to learn that he carried the guide gene. However, he had had no intention of signing up for the Guide Availability Database, preferring to pursue his chosen course of study rather than tie himself to some demanding, high maintenance individual. There were plenty of others who actually accepted and welcomed their vocation whereas he treasured his independence above all else, and thus he had readily signed the Declination Statement instead. 

Glancing at his watch, Blair realised that it was time to go, so he stood carefully, straightened his tie yet again, and left the sanctuary of his small office, ready to face the committee and his future.  


\--------------------------------  


A few hours later, a somewhat bemused but exuberant Blair emerged from the conference room surrounded by smiling members of his committee, all of whom shook his hand and patted his shoulders and back in unfeigned congratulations. Eli in particular was grinning fit to burst as he pumped Blair’s hand. 

“Well done, my boy! Well done indeed, Dr Sandburg. A beautiful piece of work, ably defended, and we are all agreed that there is no need to keep you in suspense. 

“Welcome to the faculty, Blair. You now have the honour of being Rainier’s youngest ever tenured professor!” 

For several moments Blair was too overcome to reply. Eli had just confirmed that he had already achieved his highest goal, and it was a lot to take in. Eyes bright with unshed tears of pure joy sparkled as his smile grew wide enough to dazzle the sun. His voice breaking with emotion, he finally stammered, “Thank you, Eli! Thank you all! I don’t know what to say!” 

“Well, that just has to be a ‘first’,” Dr Marie Carson chuckled in gentle mockery. “Our Blair speechless! We should have done this years ago!” and they all joined in with her cheery laughter before taking their leave of Blair and dispersing to go about their own business again. 

When there was just Blair and Eli remaining, Blair couldn’t help himself, but threw his arms around his mentor and friend in an uninhibited hug of gratitude which the older man returned with pleasure. After long moments, they broke apart, and Eli patted Blair’s shoulder again. 

“Go and celebrate, Blair. You deserve it, and I know that young scoundrel Marcus will be waiting on tenterhooks along with your other friends. Give them the good news, and enjoy your celebrations!” 

And Blair offered him a rather watery smile as he replied feelingly, “I will, Eli. And thanks again. I can’t tell you how much your care and support over the years has meant to me.” 

“Oh, I think I have some idea, my boy. Now, go! Be happy, party up a storm, and then be ready to take up your official post!” so Blair took his advice to heart and did just that.  


\-------------------------------  


**Jim:**  


Blair might have been an acknowledged theoretical expert in sentinel lore and a latent guide, but it didn’t occur to him that the instinctive feeling of unease he had been experiencing throughout the day had anything to do with that phenomenon. Having denied his potential gift any active influence in his life, he had effectively shelved that whole part of himself; content to live and work as a normal, mundane individual for the foreseeable future. 

If he had actually believed in the possibility that his genetic code could have serious consequences both for himself and for others, he would have been extremely concerned, and rightly so. But he had never considered himself to be anything special, despite his prodigious intellect, so it never occurred to him that he was being in any way selfish in denying either his person or his talent to a permanent partner, let alone a sentinel. 

But ever since he had pulled up outside Hargrove Hall that morning, he had been under observation from an individual who was very interested indeed in his every breath and action. And that individual was acting on pure primal instinct; all finer feelings crushed beneath the weight of animal need. A need to possess, protect and imprint the only person who could quite literally calm the savage breast and offer the gift of control over senses so unruly they had driven their owner to the point of insanity. 

Jim Ellison had arrived on campus scant minutes before his unsuspecting prey drove up and parked near the building that housed the Anthropology Department and the associated Sentinel and Guide Research Unit. Up until that moment, although he was still seething with resentment at Simon’s orders, the rational detective in him was still more or less in control. Knowing there was no other option open to him, he was duty bound to at least make some enquiries at the Research Unit as to what practical advice they could offer. And it was even possible that they could scour the Guide Availability Database and come up with some possible matches for him. Even a temporary guide had to be better than the thrice-damned meds he was swallowing by the handful now. 

But then all such thoughts flew out of the window as his wayward sense of smell picked up on a quite delicious scent, and sight zoomed in on possibly the most beautiful man Jim had ever seen. Hearing easily picked up the softly-uttered words the young man was murmuring to himself, and the rapid thrumming of his slightly elevated heartbeats instantly grounded and soothed both Jim’s body and soul. Senses aligned with an ease he had never before experienced, and he basked in their clarity and range. This was how it was meant to be. He _was_ Sentinel! All because of this young man. 

Guide. HIS Guide. His, and no other’s! The rational man disappeared instantly as the feral Sentinel prepared to take his mate, and a wordless growl issued from deep in Jim’s chest as he made to leave his truck and whisk the Guide away to his territory. Full imprinting was of paramount importance, and would take place whether the Guide wanted it or not. 

_No!_ Another was approaching, and addressing his mate. Who was smiling at the Other, and was now letting himself be held and escorted into the building. 

For a moment, the Sentinel considered rushing the pair and tearing the Other limb from limb for having the temerity to touch His, but practicality won out. He had time. He could wait until His was alone and vulnerable again. He just had to be patient. He had had plenty of practice at that after all. This was just another stakeout, albeit possibly the most important he had ever undertaken. 

It was several hours before the young man reappeared, but the Sentinel was barely aware of the passage of time. He had been monitoring His closely, savouring the rich tones as His discussed a paper with several others; a paper obviously of some importance to His if the slight overtone of anxiety marring his scent and his persuasive responses to their questions was anything to go by. 

Then it was over, and His was happy again. Excited and relieved, he would emerge soon, and the Sentinel was ready and waiting. 

Except that he was now surrounded by a jostling group of other young people, all of whom seemed to be intent on staying close to His. 

Curbing his aggravation with no little difficulty, the Sentinel forced himself to keep a low profile; practicality once again warning him that attacking the group in broad daylight would be more trouble than it was worth, and he couldn’t risk being arrested and losing his mate before they had even bonded. Instead, he intended to follow the group until His was once again alone, and then he would make his move. 

In the meantime, he contented himself with studying his prey in detail, memorising everything about the compact frame, and liking what he saw. His had taken off his sport coat and tie, and had removed the clip from his hair, which now fell in shining abundance down to his shoulders; a tantalising target for sentinel fingers to be sure. He was laughing and joking with his friends, and the Sentinel basked in the rich, soothing cadences even if he was uninterested in the content. 

And the face! Now open and shining with uncontained joy instead of the morning’s anxious expression, the huge blue eyes sparkled beneath a broad, smooth brow. High, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw and neat nose were complemented by a lush-lipped mouth, and the Sentinel felt himself aroused almost to completion merely at the thought of sampling the succulent flesh. 

_Patience!_ he told himself again. It would be worth the wait. A few more hours were nothing compared to the satisfaction of holding and taking his Guide at last, making them as one for the rest of their lives. 

Finally, his patience was rewarded when His emerged from a nearby pub, leaning heavily on the Other who he had met with that morning, giggling endearingly and plainly the worse for drink. 

“Awwww, come on, Marcus! Just one more for the road, huh? Pretty please?” 

Marcus grinned and shook his head, wryly amused at the frantically batting eyelashes of his drunken friend. Although he would have given anything for Blair to be serious in his flirtation, he knew that he was only fooling himself, so instead settled for humour. 

“Nope, no way, _Doctor_ Sandburg! Blair, baby, you’ve had enough. I’m going to take you home and pour you into bed, and in the morning you’ll thank me when you don’t wake up to the hangover from Hell. Come on, Sweetie, my wheels await.” 

“Sweetie? _Sweetie?_ Only my _Mom_ calls me ‘Sweetie’. I should be affron…aft…um… _offended_ , my good man,” and Blair did his best to adopt a stern expression even as he burst into a new fit of giggles. 

Charmed by his friend’s ingenuous behaviour, Marcus just had to grin down into the happy face squinting up at him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you are. You know you love me anyhow. Now, here we go, baby. Into the car with you, and we’ll get you home to bed.” 

Easing his uncoordinated passenger into the car with some awkward manoeuvring and a lot of guffaws, Marcus set off for Blair’s small apartment building, completely unaware of the truck tailing him; its steely-eyed driver operating on pure instinct now, and with one purpose alone. 

Take the Guide.  


\-------------------------------  


When the Other’s battered car pulled up outside a shabby building not too far from campus, in a run-down area housing students and other impecunious individuals, the Sentinel pulled in quietly a short distance away, his eyes never leaving his mate. He frowned as he registered the surrounding area, angry that His should be living in such a potentially dangerous location. As a detective, Ellison was well aware that the district was known not just for low-cost student accommodation, but also for crack houses and squats, with crime rife amongst the poverty-stricken and those who cynically profited from them. 

And as an uber-protective Sentinel, it was not to be tolerated. His had to be removed from the scene as quickly as possible. 

Eyes narrowed, he watched as the Other gently eased His out of the car, supporting him as they weaved their way up to the peeling main door of the building, which opened at a sharp shove from a booted foot. Not even locked, it offered no protection to the residents, and the Sentinel growled his displeasure again. Extending his senses with ease, he tracked their progress up two flights of stairs, and listened in as His fiddled with his keys before apparently dropping them on the floor. 

“Ooops, butter fingers!” the inebriated man snickered, as Marcus huffed out a put-on sigh of impatience. 

“Come on, you poor klutz. Let me. Jeez, Blair, you may be a cute drunk, but you’re a pain in the butt too. Let’s get you inside.” 

Shuffling sounds were followed by the creak of rickety springs as the Other lowered his burden on to the bed. 

“There you go, baby. I’ll get your shoes, shall I?” Then, after receiving nothing but a wordless grumble in response, he murmured softly to himself in a long-suffering tone, “Oh, man! Out for the count already. Blair, sweetheart, you are going to be _so_ sorry for yourself in the morning. I think I’d better drop by first thing to make sure you’re OK. I’d stay with you if I thought I could keep my hands off you, but I don’t trust myself. And I don’t want you to hate me in the morning! 

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I wish…oh, never mind…” and sighing despondently, Marcus quietly let himself out of the apartment and left the building, all the time completely unaware of the watcher in the shadows. 

Once the Other had driven off, the Sentinel went into action. Although long past the normal time for his next dose of dampening meds, his senses were functioning beautifully as long as he remained in the proximity of his chosen Guide, and he revelled in the almost intoxicating freedom he had not felt since his time with the Chopec. This was as it should be, and later he would wonder why he had denied himself for so long. But for now, he had to concentrate on liberating his mate; something that he doubted would pose any problems. 

Accessing the unlocked building was simple, as was tracking the scent of his mate up to the third floor. The cheap, flimsy door to the Guide’s tiny apartment offered no resistance to the determined Sentinel, and he entered the darkened rooms quickly, his eyesight automatically compensating for the gloom and immediately locating the rumpled figure snoring softly on the tangled bedding. His was deeply asleep, and the Sentinel wrinkled his nose up at the unpleasant smells of stale beer and cigarette smoke that permeated the young man’s clothing, tainting his normally enticing personal scent. Worse still, the Sentinel could smell the scents of many others who had touched His during the day, and he needed to cover and obliterate those unwanted residues with his own. 

There was no time to lose, so he reached down and gathered the unconscious Guide in his arms, hefting him up in powerful arms to lie cradled against his broad chest, the smaller man barely rousing as he was carried quickly and quietly out of the building and placed in the passenger seat of Jim’s truck. 

The Guide remained asleep throughout the drive back to 852 Prospect, blissfully unaware of being carried into #307 and up the stairs to Jim’s mezzanine bedroom, there to be placed carefully on the big bed. 

For a long moment, the Sentinel contemplated his captive, squatting down on his heels as his nostrils flared, taking in all the various scents surrounding the sleeping figure and discarding those alien aromas he found offensive. The Guide’s own pure scent was savoured and catalogued, as was the steady heartbeat, and the Sentinel knew he would ever after be able to pick out his mate in any crowd. His eyes narrowed as he studied the tousled Guide, enchanted by the relaxed features as soft breaths puffed from slightly parted, lush lips. The beard-stubbled cheeks and dishevelled locks gave the Guide a rakish appearance, and the Sentinel decided that he had waited long enough to sample his prize. 

Approaching the bed again, he began to strip the Guide of his somewhat pungent clothing, admiring the slender but well-proportioned figure as it was revealed to him. The soft mat of hair on the young man’s chest surrounded cinnamon-coloured nipples, and the tapering point running down his belly ended in a bush of crisp curls at his groin, where a very respectable sized set of genitals nestled enticingly. The Sentinel licked his lips in anticipation as he admired the well-formed, cut cock, then he turned his mate over carefully to inspect the firm buttocks of a shapely behind. 

It was at this point when his mate began to rouse, and a sleepy, indignant voice slurred, “No, Marcus! Told you, man. I love you, but not that way. Leave off, man, OK? Wanna sleep…” 

No! This was not to be tolerated! His was mistaken – was addressing him as if he was the Other. Time to set things right. 

Snarling like the big jungle cat that was his animal spirit, Jim pounced, flipping the smaller man over again so he could sink his fingers into the long curls. Holding the head steady, he took the plush mouth in a brutal kiss, and the flavours of his Guide burst upon his tongue. Not even the sourness of stale beer could disrupt the Sentinel’s pleasure as he took his fill. 

And for a delicious moment, the Guide responded, eliciting a growl of delight from the bigger man. 

However, seconds later the Guide’s eyes flew open in horror as the vulnerability of his position swiftly dissipated the effects of inebriation clouding his mind. Tearing his mouth away from the lips and tongue apparently bent on ravishing him, he began to struggle wildly, his determination to escape driven by sheer terror. 

“No! Get off me, you bastard! Get off! Let me up….Red! Stop! I don’t want this!” He pushed and shoved at the large, muscular body pinning him down, to no avail. Although of only average height, and not overly muscled himself, he was no weakling, and his fear and anger gave him added strength. It wasn’t enough, however, and the ex-covert ops part of Jim’s Sentinel had no trouble in subduing him. He gasped in anguish as his wrist was seized in a cruel grip, and the cold metal of Jim’s handcuffs snapped around it, to be secured to the wire bedrail above his head by the other cuff. Virtually helpless now, he still continued to writhe and curse his attacker, screaming out his fury and despair as the big man flipped him over again and sank sharp teeth into the soft skin of his shoulder at the base of his neck. With his face shoved firmly into the pillow to stifle his cries, he fought for breath as large hands parted his ass cheeks, and a massive organ pushed against his opening. 

Goddess! He was going to be raped! And at last his muddled mind cleared enough to figure out the nature of his attacker. This was a primal Sentinel, completely at the mercy of his most basic instincts. A Sentinel determined to possess, imprint and bond with a compatible Guide. 

His worst nightmare was about to be realised, and he howled into the pillow in utter grief and denial before the muffled scream turned to one of anguish as pain worse than anything he had ever felt in his life ripped through his lower body. 

Jeez, he was being split in two! Tears born of agony were squeezed from his tightly closed eyes, and all he could do was endure. The only slight mitigating factor was that the Sentinel was too far gone in lust to prolong the coupling, and it only took a few thrusts until he came with a roar as he bit down on Blair’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. 

And at that moment, Blair literally felt his mind blasted apart as the other man’s consciousness invaded his, and he knew, he _knew_ he would never be the same again. 

Shuddering and gasping as he sobbed out his heart-broken misery, he recognised that the day that had begun with such hope and potential had ended in disaster. 

He wasn’t alone in his devastation, but for Jim it wore another face. 

Even as the white-hot burst of the bond surged through him, and his mind merged triumphantly with that of his Guide, Jim came back to himself. The inner Sentinel might be purring smugly in self-satisfaction, but the rational detective was horrified at what he had done. Pulling out so quickly that his Guide moaned anew in pain, Jim threw himself off the bed with such force that he landed on his ass, staring in shock at the small figure now curled in a tight, foetal ball, his back turned firmly against his tormenter. 

Stricken with guilt, Jim noted the bloody bite on the other man’s shoulder, and unconsciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallowed hard at the sight of the smear of blood left upon it, and his stomach roiled at the taste of it still coating his teeth and tongue. Worse still was the trickle of blood issuing from between the younger man’s buttocks, clearly visible on pale thighs and staining the sheet beneath him, and Jim thought he would throw up on the spot when he looked down at himself. His now flaccid member was also smudged with blood, and he was sickened to think that he had been so far gone that he hadn’t even undressed, but had taken his Guide while fully clothed like the worst rapist and abuser. Tucking himself back into his pants with shaking hands, he paused for a moment before approaching the bed again. Although he was sure the young man – Blair – wouldn’t want anything to do with him, he knew his first priority must be to provide medical assistance, and to release his captive. 

Taking the key from his nightstand drawer, he tentatively reached over to unlock the cuff around his Guide’s wrist, only to pause when the young man stiffened. “Don’t…don’t touch me, man! Leave me alone!” 

The low voice cracked with emotion, and Jim’s guilty conscience took another hit as his sensitive nose detected the sourness of fear and distress overlying his Guide’s scent. He couldn’t believe what he had done. Thanks to the merge, he knew this man intimately, mind and body. This Blair Sandburg. Knew he was barely twenty three years old, and a newly fledged Doctor of Anthropology. His life had been mapped out for him, and he should have had a long and happy career in academia. And Jim had ruined it. Had bound them forever as one. Even if Sandburg refused the bond, he was doomed to live a life of pain and uncertainty. A life dependent forever after on medication to provide a synthetic barrier for his newly-awakened empathy. And no medication yet existing did a truly successful job of it. 

Hell, he should know. He had relied on the sentinel equivalent for far too long, and he knew it was driving him slowly mad. And if Blair was determined enough to deny them, he would have to return to using it on an even higher dosage until he could bear it no longer, and let himself zone for one last, fatal time. 

But his own pain and guilt had to take a back seat for now. The Guide needed help, and Jim would provide it whether Sandburg liked it or not. 

“It’s OK, Chief. Really. I’m back, not that it’s much comfort to you. Let me at least unlock you, OK?” and he reached over again and released Blair’s wrist. A wrist that was bruised and abraded from his struggles against the cruel metal, and which he now cradled protectively under his armpit. 

As Jim reached down for a blanket to drape over his Guide’s nakedness, Sandburg took him by surprise when he galvanised into action and rolled off the bed on the opposite side. 

“Where are they? Where are my clothes? I’m out of here, man!” His voice shook but the determination in his expression warred with his pain and fear, and for a moment, Jim was awed by his courage even in the face of his attacker. 

“Wait, Chief! Please. I know I have no right to dictate to you, but you know me now. Me, not just the Sentinel. I have medical training, Chief, and you need treatment. Now I realise you probably won’t want me to do it, but let me take you to the ER. It’s the least I can do. If you want, I’ll call my boss, Captain Banks. He’ll come over, I know he will, and you can trust him even if you don’t trust me. 

“And I swear I’ll stay away from you until he arrives, OK?” 

Wide-eyed, Blair stared at him for a moment, then swayed as he turned an alarming shade of greenish-white. The shock had caught up with him, and, coupled with the after-effects of his drinking spree, he couldn’t fight the incipient nausea. Even as he heaved, Jim grabbed the waste basket and held it under the young man’s head as Sandburg bent at the waist and lost the contents of his stomach. 

Retching and heaving, Blair continued until there was nothing left, and only then, trembling and dizzy, did he sink back down onto the bed, too shaken to complain when Jim carefully draped the thick comforter around his shoulders. 

“OK, Chief. Just take it easy for a few. I’ll get rid of this, and I’ll call Simon Banks. He won’t like it at this time of night, but that’s tough. He’ll come anyway; I know him. And once you’re at the hospital and have been treated, you can charge me with assault, and he’ll take care of it for you. I won’t fight it, Chief – Blair. What I did was unforgivable, and you’ll never know how sorry I am.” 

Blair didn’t have the strength to reply. Didn’t have the energy to even consider Jim’s words or take on board the heart-felt apology. His immediate concern was whether he was going to be sick again, despite his empty stomach, and he knew intuitively that this time Jim was speaking the truth. Let the man call his boss, then let him get the help Blair needed. Time enough to consider his next moves once he was in the hospital and away from Ellison’s territory.  


\-----------------------------------  


**Later that night, Cascade General ER:**  


Jim and Simon sat side by side in the busy waiting area outside the treatment rooms, leaning forward tiredly with elbows resting on their knees, both lost in their thoughts. Casting a sidelong look at his introspective companion, Banks frowned at the lost look on his friend’s face. He knew that the man would be listening in to what was going on in the cubicle where young Sandburg was being treated, and watched carefully for signs that the sentinel might zone on the input. He knew that Jim would be berating himself unmercifully for his actions, and for a second, Simon felt his own anger and disgust rise once again to the surface. Moments later, however, he forced himself to settle. It was a done deed now, whatever he might think about it, and who was he to condemn Jim out of hand? Sure, he had a better than average working knowledge of how sentinels and guides operated in the field, but at the end of the day, he was only an ordinary man, and had no real comprehension of what his friend must be going through, or what primitive instincts had caused him to act the way he had. 

Deciding that Jim was OK for the time being, he turned back to stare unseeingly at the scuffed linoleum beneath his feet, running through the events of the night from his point of view.  


\-------------------------------  


He had just turned in for the night when Jim had phoned, and he hadn’t been best pleased to be summoned from his warm bed. However, having checked caller ID, he had quashed his annoyance, knowing that Jim would never call him at that time of night without a damned good reason. He could still feel the echoes of the shock he had felt when Jim explained succinctly what he had done, the very lack of inflection and emotion in other man’s tone providing ample evidence of his deeply troubled mind-set and burgeoning guilt to someone who knew him as well as did Simon. 

Simon had immediately thrown on some clothes and driven over to the loft, to be met at the door by a pale-faced Jim. The patrician features were rigidly controlled and studiedly blank, but the ice blue eyes were dark with distress and self-disgust, and Simon could make out the faint trembling in the strong hands that flexed in agitation at Jim’s sides. He had plainly taken a moment to freshen up, and the skin of his face, neck and hands appeared damp and cool, but he still looked like a man very near breaking point. 

“Where is he, Jim?” Simon asked quietly, as if addressing a wary, half-wild colt. The last thing he wanted was to spook the distraught sentinel any more than he was already, because Simon wasn’t entirely sure that Jim was truly in control. 

He was actually relieved when a pained grimace flashed across Jim’s face, and his friend swallowed audibly before muttering, “He’s upstairs. On my bed. He hasn’t moved or spoken since I…since I--” 

“OK, Jim,” Simon interrupted quickly, not wanting or needing details yet. Time enough for that when he had taken stock of the situation for himself. “Let me go up and see him, and then we’ll get him to ER, if that’s what he needs.” 

“Oh, he does, believe me,” Jim replied as he turned to lead the way upstairs, and this time his voice was low and steeped in bitter self-incrimination. 

Thinking back, Simon knew that his own face had betrayed his shock and horror when he had caught his first sight of the small figure huddled miserably on Jim’s bed. Bundled up to the chin in a comforter, there was little immediate evidence of harm, except for the devastated expression on the youthful face that turned warily to watch Simon’s careful approach. Almost too pretty, the attractive features framed by tousled curls were pinched and tense, the large blue eyes telegraphing pain, anxiety and an undercurrent of anger. 

_Shit! He’s only a kid!_ was Simon’s first thought, only to reconsider when the young man spoke. His voice was deep and resonant, even though somewhat scratchy, as if he had been screaming. Which, Simon realised, he probably had. 

“Who are you, man? Can you help me? I need to get out of here, now.” Barely-contained panic caused the softly-uttered plea to crack on the last word. The young man was clearly nearing the limit of his endurance, and Simon stepped forward immediately. 

“It’s OK, Mr Sandburg. My name is Simon Banks, Captain of Cascade PD Major Crimes Unit, and Detective Ellison’s boss. I promise you no more harm will come to you. I’m here to take you to the ER, OK?” 

The kid – no, Blair – stared at him for a long moment, plainly trying to ascertain his veracity, then, decision made, he slumped down further onto the bed. 

“OK, man. Thanks. Um, my clothes?” 

Simon glanced over at Jim, who was still standing at the head of the stairs. Jim indicated the crumpled pile at the end of the bed, but made no attempt to advance into the room. It didn’t take a sentinel to see how skittish Sandburg was, so he settled for hovering ineffectually in the background while Simon coaxed the shaky young man to let go of the comforter and allow him to help Blair dress. 

While he eased Sandburg into the shirt, boxers, pants and socks which were his only items of clothing, he was hard put to control his anger and dismay at the damage revealed on the pale skin. The many finger-shaped bruises on Blair’s arms and torso, plus the still oozing bite on his shoulder were bad enough, but the sight of dried blood smearing his thighs and buttocks, plus the stained sheet had stoked Banks’ rage almost to boiling point. 

However, he knew that losing it at that moment would serve no good purpose, so he had swallowed down his sudden desire to either deck Ellison or clap him in irons, and instead helped Sandburg to his feet, taking most of his weight as he swayed alarmingly, face pale and sweaty as he fought to keep it together just a little longer. 

In the end he had virtually carried Blair down to his sedan, grateful that the building’s temperamental elevator was working for once, and had settled the smaller man in the back seat as comfortably as possible while Jim climbed uninvited into the front passenger seat. He would never know the true extent of Jim’s inner conflict as he fought to contain the primal Sentinel, who was railing against allowing Simon to touch and comfort His. Suffice it to say that Jim’s guilt allowed the rational man to maintain the upper hand for the time being, at least. 

The journey to the ER was made in silence. Simon could see in his rear view mirror that Sandburg was pretty much out for the count, head resting against the side window and eyes closed as he breathed through the pain. As for Jim, the big man was plainly concentrating solely on his Guide, his deep concern obvious in the frown between his brows, the thin-lipped grimace and the tightly fisted hands resting on his knees. He practically radiated tension, and Simon decided that there was no point in trying to examine the situation further until Sandburg was safely delivered to the hospital. 

On arrival, Blair had been whisked away by a waiting nurse, who had had orders to deliver him to a side ward where he would be seen by a doctor approved by the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit. Although Jim had plainly been somewhat taken aback at first, he realised that Simon had had the forethought to call ahead, for which he knew he should be grateful. 

His Guide would receive the treatment he needed by a doctor who wouldn’t judge him on appearances, and hopefully would provide comfort and understanding for the young man Jim had hurt so badly.  


\-----------------------------  


So now here they were. Sandburg was being treated, and Simon decided that it was time to start the ball rolling and question his subordinate on what exactly had occurred, and why. And after that, try to figure out what could be done to avert the potentially disastrous fallout. 

“Jim. _Jim!_ Come on back now, man. I need to talk to you.” 

After a few seconds, the other man shook himself, then turned to face his boss, a frown of irritation creasing his brow. Seeing the determined set to Simon’s expression, he sighed softly, knowing that his captain and friend had been patient enough, and deserved Jim’s cooperation, however reluctantly given. 

“Sorry, Simon. I was just listening in.” 

“Yeah, that was kind of obvious, Jim. So, how’s he doing?” Simon’s reply was gentler than Jim would have expected, given the circumstances, but he was grateful for the consideration. It was more than he deserved, for sure. 

“Um, well, the doc has treated the bite and his wrist, and is…is putting in a couple of stitches. 

“Christ, Simon! I tore him up that badly! I can’t believe I could do that to anyone, let alone my chosen Guide!” 

Jim’s words were uttered with a depth of despair and self-hatred that shook Simon once again. This was a nightmare of the first order, and he was hard pressed to know how to continue. But it had to be done, so he nodded in brusque assent before continuing. 

“I won’t argue with you there, Jim, but there has to be a reason behind such uncharacteristically violent behaviour. I mean, you’re no pussy cat when it comes to criminals, and I dare say you’ve had to do plenty of questionable stuff in the army, but I’ve never known you to abuse your strength or your position against an innocent civilian. Tell me everything. From the moment you left the office, OK?” 

And Jim had no choice but to do as he was bid. 

Leaning forward once more, hands clasped between his knees, Jim chose to study the floor rather than face the condemnation and disgust he was certain would soon spread across on his friend’s face. He was silent for so long that Simon thought he would have to repeat his demand, then, with another deep sigh, he began. 

“When I left the office, I was mad, Simon. I mean, really angry. The moment I’d been trying to postpone for so long had finally arrived to bite me in the ass, so I knew I had to do as you ordered, or hand in my notice. Anyway, I drove to Rainier, intending to visit the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit, when suddenly this kid in an old junker pulls up in the lot ahead of me, and that was it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight in all my life. It wasn’t so much that he was good looking, although he certainly is that, but it was everything about him. All my senses seemed to zero in on him, and settled down almost immediately, better than ever before. 

“I couldn’t help myself, Simon. I had to have him. Nothing else would do. But then some guy came up and started talking to him, and god, it was so hard not to run up and rip the bastard’s head off! But I guess I had just enough sense left –no pun intended – to control my baser instinct that much. 

“So I stalked him instead. I waited all morning in the truck, listening in on him, and my sense range was so much greater than I could have imagined. I could even track his scent inside the building! I heard him defend his dissertation, and I heard him be informed that he was now Dr Sandburg. And I didn’t care. He was going to be mine, and that was all that mattered. And before you ask, I haven’t had to take any meds since first thing this morning, and right now my senses feel just fine. Though the gods alone know how long that’ll last if I can’t get to see and hold him again. 

“Anyway, after a while he came out with a group of friends, and I had to wait again. I followed them to a pub nearby, and they got stuck in to some serious celebrating. It turned into a party, and it was only much later when he came out again, pretty drunk by all accounts, and his friend took him home. I remember being furious, because it was some cheap, run-down rat hole in the old Market District, and I knew I had to protect him – get him out of there and back to the loft. Into my territory. 

“Anyhow, as soon as the friend left, I broke in – it wasn’t exactly hard – and carried him out to my truck. He didn’t wake at all until I started to imprint him. And I couldn’t stop. Even when he woke and fought me. I have no excuse, Simon. The primal Sentinel was in total control. I restrained him, and…and there’s no other word for it. I raped him. And we merged. He belongs to me now, and I belong to him. I know him now pretty much down to the molecular level. 

“And I know that I’ve completely destroyed his life. Probably mine too if he rejects me. 

“I really hate myself. And this cursed ‘gift’! What good is it, Simon? Tell me, just what _good_ is it?” 

And Simon had no easy answer for him. He was having enough trouble digesting everything Jim had told him, so he just reached over and squeezed Jim’s forearm. 

“I can’t tell you that, Jim. Not right now. Let’s just take it a step at a time, OK?” 

Suddenly, he realised that Jim was distracted again, his head cocked in an unconscious ‘listening’ pose. 

“What is it, man? What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but the tone firm and demanding. And was shocked again at the mix of dismay and astonishment on Jim’s face when the man turned back to meet his quizzical gaze. 

“He just told the doctor that he wasn’t going to press charges, Simon. He said it wasn’t my fault. It was an instinctive thing. A primitive sentinel and guide thing. Why would he do that, Simon? I deserve everything – every punishment there is going – for what I did to him. I don’t understand. Why would he _do_ that?” 

“Well, I can’t answer that for you either, man, but for now I choose to be grateful for his forgiveness and understanding. I’m sure this is only the beginning of a really difficult time for you both, but at least I’m not looking at throwing your ass in jail.” 

Just then the doors to the waiting area opened to reveal two very different, but equally determined and worried-looking men. Jim recognised the willowy younger one as Blair’s friend Marcus from earlier, but the second one was a stranger to him. The man had a thatch of thick, iron-grey hair and clean-cut, weather-beaten features. Jim had the impression that his normal expression would be one of kindness and cheerful inquisitiveness, but now it was angry and set as he strode towards the side ward alongside his companion. Both men ignored Jim and Simon, although Jim could practically feel the tacit animosity directed towards them. 

A moment later, his question was answered when the men were greeted behind the closed door by his Guide. The soft, breaking voice tore at Jim’s conscience as he listened in unashamedly, needing to know how Sandburg was progressing, and what his intentions were. 

“Eli! And Marcus, thank you both so much for coming. I…I’m so sorry to drag you out here, but I really need a friend right now.” 

“Oh, my dear boy!” To Jim’s ears, the older man’s voice sounded both affectionate and profoundly regretful, and Jim recognised it as belonging to Eli Stoddard. The man who had so happily informed Blair of his dissertation success just hours ago in Hargrove Hall. 

“It’s true then, what the doctor implied when he called me on your behalf. Not just a sexual assault, as if that weren’t traumatic enough. But bonded too. And to an Alpha Sentinel. What can I do to help?” 

Before Blair could respond, Jim heard the other, younger man chime in furiously. “Who was it, babe? Which one of those two cavemen outside hurt you? I’m going to report them to whatever authority I need to get this so-called _bond_ annulled!” 

“No, Marcus, please!” the Guide’s voice was anguished as he rushed to placate his angry friend. “It was the white guy, Detective Ellison. The other big dark guy is his boss, Captain Banks. He helped me. Got me here. But please don’t do anything yet, man. It…it’s more complicated than that. I know, because it appears that I’m quite the empath. Who knew?” he continued, voice breaking in miserable self-deprecation. 

“Apparently it takes a particularly strong guide to bond with a sentinel of Detective Ellison’s ability, and we’re pretty rare, so he wasn’t about to turn down the chance. He went primal, Eli. He didn’t have any control. But I know now, because I’m ‘on-line’ too, that he feels really guilty. It’s just that, now we’re bonded, and I can’t…I can’t even begin to get my head around it.” 

“Oh, Blair. This is so unfair,” Eli replied gently. “This is why you signed the Declination Statement in the first place, to avoid this very thing. Look, I’m taking you home with me tonight, as soon as the doctor releases you. You need to have a little time to yourself to think things over, and hopefully you’ll have a few hours’ grace before you need to either link with your Sentinel again, or try medication. And when you’re ready, we’ll call together a meeting of all interested parties, chaired by the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit, and hopefully come to some acceptable solution.” 

The eavesdropping Sentinel immediately growled in response to this threat to his bond, but Jim the man ruthlessly pushed the urge aside. He had forfeited the right to dictate as to where Sandburg should stay, and at least the young man hadn’t insisted on going home to his insecure slum of an apartment. Perhaps the best place for him under the circumstances was with his old friend and mentor. 

He was just going to have to play ‘wait and see’ for the time being, and he had no one to blame but himself.  


\----------------------------  


**Part 2: Damage Limitation:**  


**Blair:**  


At dawn’s early light the following morning, Blair lay unsleeping, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above his bed. He was profoundly grateful to Eli for letting him stay for the night, because he didn’t feel inclined to return alone and unguarded to his shabby apartment, and in all honesty didn’t think that staying with Marcus was a good plan. Yes, he knew his friend had been disappointed when his offer had been gently turned down, but Blair really didn’t want to have to deal with Marcus’ unrequited love, especially now. He was exhausted, but still unable to sleep, his thoughts rushing around his brain like a hamster on a wheel, getting nowhere. Sighing, he eased his bruised body over to his side, and eyed up the small bottle of medication on the nightstand. The doctor in the ER had prescribed the pills, knowing that Blair would need them soon enough if he wasn’t going back to his new Sentinel. They were fairly strong, but to be used sparingly, and only when really necessary, because apparently the drug would soon lose its efficacy as Blair’s resistance to it developed. The kindly doctor had stressed that it was only to be thought of as a temporary measure, and Blair could tell that the man hoped that he and Ellison would be reconciled enough to at least work together. And that frightened Blair no end. 

Sighing again, he rolled onto his back, barely suppressing the moan that wanted to escape as his sore rear end protested the movement. Thank the goddess his empathic barriers were still holding up for the moment. He knew that all too soon they would begin to fray, and then he would have to reach for that bottle. Or his new Sentinel…. Goddess! How in her name could he even consider it? 

Closing his eyes, he tried once again to think things through. He simply couldn’t believe his bad luck at being spotted by a primal Sentinel. But when he really analysed the situation objectively, he supposed that he shouldn’t be that surprised after all. He recalled his early years of study with Eli, when the two of them would talk for hours about the fascinating phenomenon of sentinel and guide partnerships. He remembered Eli’s half-joking comments regarding Blair’s suitability as a guide, and wished he’d taken more notice then. It was all very well knowing he had the guide gene, but he had assumed that it was something he could safely ignore. But Eli had pointed out that Blair was very much a ‘people person’, which undoubtedly contributed to his love of anthropology, and made him such a good teacher. So he must have had some empathic capability all along, and apparently, now it had been boosted by the merge, it was strong enough to cope with a Sentinel of Ellison’s power. 

Well, shit! Now he really thought about it, he could guess why Naomi had always been so foot-loose and flighty, despite her claims of seeking out her one true love. If she had the gene, which was a distinct possibility, it was in character for her to deny it and resist the temptation to settle down with anyone, especially a sentinel. Naomi didn’t hold with barriers and boundaries of any sort, physical or spiritual. 

Then again, perhaps it was his unknown father who had so generously bequeathed Blair with the unwanted genetic variation. Who knew? _Thanks for nothing, Dad!_ It was a done deal now anyway, and as yet Blair had no idea how he was going to handle the results. 

He knew he was going to have to learn to ‘read’ and interpret other people’s emotions, if only for self-protection. Hell, it had already begun when he thought about it. As soon as Ellison the primal Sentinel had raped – no, _bonded_ with him he told himself firmly – he had regained control of himself almost immediately, and Blair knew that with the return to rationality had come a huge surge of guilt, horror and grief. Blair recalled being almost overwhelmed with the weight of it, which was probably why he himself had overreacted so dramatically. 

_Yeah, like I didn’t have my own good reasons anyway,_ an inner voice muttered snidely, but Blair ignored it in favour of trying to seek out something positive. A prolonged pity party did no one any good, so he told himself to suck it up, and keep as up-beat as he could. 

And on that thought, between one breath and the next, he fell asleep at last.  


\------------------------------  


Much later that morning, a very woebegone Blair forced himself to crawl out of bed for no other reason than the desperate need to use the bathroom. After doing his business, albeit very slowly and with no little discomfort, he wanted nothing more than to fall back into the tempting warmth, but that wasn’t going to happen. He needed to get up and about if he was to make the meeting Eli intended to set up, since there was no way he could put it off indefinitely. He knew instinctively that his protective barriers were already beginning to fray – the effects very like the onset of the worst kind of migraine – and he already felt like swallowing down the whole contents of the bottle of dampening meds. How in the goddess’ name he was going to survive, he didn’t know. 

But what he did know was that he wanted to try. He wanted to get his life back, at least for as long as possible. He hadn’t worked so hard for most of his young life to have his prized degree and career snatched away from him almost immediately. 

Shuffling slowly down to the kitchen, he found Eli busy with his laptop at the counter, a cup of strong coffee at his elbow. The older man looked up immediately at his entrance, and smiled a welcome, although he was unable to disguise the concern on his kind face. Indeed, in his over-large, borrowed PJs, hunched over in deference to his aches and pains, and his beard-stubbled face pale and drawn, Blair was truly a pitiful apparition. 

Jumping to his feet, Eli hurried over to his temporary guest, automatically wrapping a supportive arm around the younger man’s waist and helping him over to a seat at the kitchen table. He had had the forethought to place a soft cushion there for Blair’s use, and Blair grinned tightly in real appreciation for the consideration. 

“Thanks, Eli. Just what the doctor ordered,” he snickered, trying for humour, but wasn’t really surprised when Eli didn’t smile in response. 

“Blair, my boy, I hope you won’t take it amiss when I say that you look terrible. I can see for myself that you’re in considerable pain, and I take it that it’s as much in your head as in your body, am I right? What have you taken in the way of painkillers, son?” 

Sighing ruefully, Blair replied, “You’re right, Eli. My ass is hurting, and I feel as if I’ve been used as a punching bag. But worse still, my head’s already aching in the worst way. I took one of those dampening pills just now, but it still feels like it’s about to fall off my shoulders. Truthfully, Eli, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stand it. If I’m already having trouble coping with your concern, however much I appreciate it, how will I be able to shut out the barrage of emotions the outside world is going to throw at me as soon as I set foot out of the door?” 

Squeezing Blair’s shoulder gently, Eli offered a small, sad smile. “Dear boy, I have absolutely no idea how you must be suffering, so I don’t really have the right to advise you one way or the other. Theoretically speaking, I would suggest that perhaps it’s a matter of practice? We both know that when a new bond takes place, it creates a link between the partners, and the empathic barriers on the guide’s part are effectively destroyed in order for that to occur. He or she would have to learn to rebuild those barriers to a certain degree for their own comfort, but at least they would have their sentinel’s support to fall back on during that period. 

“And as we have both also observed, the barriers are never completely rebuilt, so the guide will always be reliant to a certain extent on their sentinel. That said, in your case, I can understand why you wouldn’t feel able to agree to that, and I’m so sorry it’s a decision you’re being forced to make. 

“On a purely practical note, what I can do is offer you the comfort of a shower, clean clothes, and food if you can take it. 

“I’ve arranged for us to meet with the Dean of Studies at 2.00 pm in his office. Dr Mary Deacon, who heads up the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit; and Dr Mansfield, the man who treated you and who is the senior medical advisor on Sentinel and Guide medicine, will be there also. And, of course, Captain Banks and Detective Ellison. I know it won’t be easy for you, Blair, but you have my unqualified support in whatever decision you make. 

“And after that, all I can suggest is that we take it one day at a time. Agreed?” 

And Blair nodded tiredly in resigned assent. It was the only way, after all.  


\----------------------------  


**That afternoon, Dean of Studies’ office, Rainier University:**  


**Jim:**  


Seated next to Simon in a none-too-comfortable visitor’s chair, Jim shifted slightly to ease the growing stiffness in his back. Apart from that inconspicuous movement, everything about him suggested a cool and stoic demeanour, which was a far cry from the internal turmoil that threatened to break free at any moment. Although he knew that Simon was finding it hard to contain his impatience, Jim knew he had no choice under the circumstances, so held his peace, as did the other two people present. It was not an occasion for small-talk, and that suited Jim just fine as he stared unseeingly at the wall behind the man seated at the large desk. 

He had already scanned the room on arrival, noting its generous proportions and understated opulence in keeping with the status of the office’s occupant, Dr Emanuel Rothschild, Rainier’s Dean of Studies. He also couldn’t fail to note the man’s icy politeness on their arrival, and was wryly amused at the perfunctory greeting and handshake, while recognising that the man had ample cause for adopting such an attitude. Hell, he had been put in an extremely uncomfortable position, thanks to Jim’s thoughtless actions, and Jim wasn’t at all sure that the outcome of this meeting was going to satisfy any of them. As far as he was aware, there had never been a case like this in decades, if at all, and he bitterly regretted setting the whole thing in motion. 

At least the other person present, who had arrived shortly after Simon and Jim, gave the impression of at least sympathising somewhat with the Sentinel’s dilemma, even if she couldn’t condone his behaviour. Dr Mary Deacon, who was here to represent the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit’s stake in the case, had the responsibility of looking out for the interests of both parties, irrespective of who deserved the lion’s share of the blame. She had greeted the two cops with far more civility, but declined to discuss anything of importance until the other expected attendees made their appearance, so now they sat in uneasy silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. 

As far as Jim’s senses were concerned, the situation wasn’t too bad as yet, although he wasn’t proud of the reason why. And it certainly wasn’t something he was about to confess to Simon or anyone else for that matter until he had to. The simple fact was that the wonderful control he had gained on bonding was still holding, thanks to the essence of his Guide that clung to his bed linen. As long as he was able to smell that delicious scent, he could use it to ground the rest of his senses. He even had a piece with him right now in his coat pocket, but he would never willingly reveal that little snippet of information. In fact, he was pretty much disgusted with himself for using the evidence of Sandburg’s assault as a means to benefit himself, but needs must. And if, as he half-expected, Blair refused to acknowledge the bond, he would continue to do so for as long as the scent remained. And what happened after that was anybody’s guess. In all honesty, he couldn’t see himself caring if the young man couldn’t or wouldn’t forgive him, because god knew, he couldn’t forgive himself. 

Suddenly, he raised his head and looked towards the door, unconcerned with the speculative glances his companions directed at him. The Sentinel knew that His was about to enter the building, and he was eager to see and hold the Guide once again, even as Jim fought the impulse. No! He would _not_ let the feral side of him take control! Not here. Please god, not _now!_

It was a close-run battle, but when Blair stepped into the room, accompanied by Eli and Dr Mansfield, the sentinel and guide medical expert, the wide-eyed, anxious expression on the young man’s face was enough to jolt Jim’s conscience so that remorse won out over possessive, animal lust. 

Settling back into his seat again, Jim swiftly scanned Blair, not liking the signs of pain and stress in the faint tremors that shook the slender frame, and upset by the taint of fear overlying his personal scent. The young man’s heart was hammering in his chest as if he had run a marathon, and Jim could pick out the slight chemical traces that told him Blair had already had to resort to taking dampening meds. 

The Guide was in poor shape, and it was all his fault.  


\------------------------------------  


It was Dean Rothschild who broke the momentary tension unwittingly caused by the new arrivals, rising from his seat to greet them, the warmth in his tone as he carefully shook Blair’s hand in direct contrast to the manner he had adopted with Jim. 

Gently guiding Blair to a distinctly more comfortable-looking chair on the opposite side of the room from Jim and Simon, Rothschild addressed the shaky young man quietly as he waited for Blair’s companions to take their seats on either side of him. 

“Dr Sandburg. Blair. I’m truly sorry to see you in such dire straits. It seems so unfair that merely hours ago I was happily anticipating your joining Rainier’s staff on a permanent basis, and now we are faced with this desperate situation. Let us hope that this meeting will provide you with some sort of workable plan for the future.” 

Smiling wanly up at the austere academic, Blair murmured, “Thank you, Dean Rothschild. But I too am so sorry to have caused you such trouble. I never expected to be in this position, and I hope you believe me when I say that I would never willingly bring any sort of disrepute to Rainier. If possible, I intend to try and minimise the potential damage as much as I can.” 

“I understand, dear boy,” the older man replied, patting Blair’s shoulder before addressing all those assembled. 

“Lady and gentlemen. Thank you for coming at such short notice, but I am sure you all agree that this matter must be dealt with as soon as possible for the sake of all concerned parties. 

“Perhaps you could start the ball rolling, Dr Deacon? I think we all need to understand more about the unusual nature of this particular bond.” 

Straightening in her seat, the competent-looking woman gazed around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes un-self-consciously. When she locked eyes with Jim, she tilted her head assessingly, but without obvious dislike. On the other hand, when she gazed into Blair’s eyes, her own expression held nothing but sympathy, and there was a noticeable softening in her overall demeanour before she addressed the gathering. 

“First of all, I want to say that, as far as I personally am concerned, I am so sorry that this particular dilemma has come to pass. I know that each one present is aware of the basics concerning sentinel and guide partnerships, but I freely admit that I could never have foreseen this happening. As a department, the Sentinel and Guide Research Unit has generally concentrated on the integration and support of such pairs within the modern environment, and we have left the more esoteric and historical – or even pre-historical – concepts to the experts,” and here she looked quickly from Eli to Blair, offering them both a rather sad smile. 

“Having said that,” she continued, “we also keep as comprehensive a database as possible in regards to all aspects of sentinel and guide relationships and individual prowess, so I admit that we were aware of Detective Ellison’s potential as an Alpha Sentinel. Indeed, we were convinced that there had been no such powerful individual in this area for many decades, and we were watching his progress with interest. And I also freely admit that we were both baffled and frustrated by his continued resistance to the notion of locating a suitable guide and partner for himself. 

“Then again,” she said, looking Jim apologetically in the eye, “we had no authority to do anything but observe from a distance, and for once I am truly sorry for that official restriction. Perhaps we should have been allowed to insist that Detective Ellison attend ‘mixers’ where he might possibly have found a compatible partner. Who knows? The only way we were able to intervene was in suggesting that, as an unbonded guide who wished to remain so, Blair should be refused permission to approach the PD for the purpose of gathering data for his dissertation. And to be honest, we had no inkling that a guide as able as Dr Sandburg was in the vicinity. Certainly Blair’s initial test results were logged, but because he signed the Declination Statement, nothing else was done with them, and they were effectively archived. 

“In hindsight, perhaps we could have prevented this potential disaster from occurring in the first place. We should have been more aware of the possibility of a primal bonding. The raw data was there, and no one joined the dots. I shall, of course, be lobbying for a better and tighter registration system in the future, but for now, that doesn’t help Blair and Detective Ellison any. 

“Perhaps you can give us the benefit of your expertise in regards their health and future prospects, Dr Mansfield?” 

The pleasant, mild-mannered physician offered her a slight smile, but took a moment to stare unseeingly into the middle distance while he gathered his thoughts before addressing the room. His genial features were creased in a perplexed frown, and it was obvious that he was profoundly disturbed, and uncomfortable with having to offer his opinion. However, he was no coward, and as a dedicated physician who cared deeply for each and every one of his patients, he took a fortifying breath and began. 

Glancing quickly at Blair as he spoke, he gently squeezed the pale young man’s knee supportively as he said, “Like Dr Deacon, I too am sincerely sorry that we are faced with such an unexpected situation. I freely admit that, despite my so-called expertise in Sentinel and Guide medical matters; I have never come across anything like this ever before. Yes, I have, on very rare occasions, been called upon to treat partners who may possibly have been the victims of domestic abuse, but despite my personal suspicions, I have never been called upon to testify in any way. 

“And although I dare say that all of us here have most likely read unnecessarily lurid historical accounts of primal bonding during our studies, I, for one, never really considered that it was relevant to our current understanding of present-day sentinel/guide dynamics. I’m ashamed to say that my initial reaction, no doubt like many others, would be to accuse Detective Ellison of nothing less than kidnapping, sexual assault and rape. 

“On the other hand, I have to bow to the greater knowledge, and, indeed, courage of Dr Sandburg. He has consistently maintained that, although far from consensual on his part, the bonding was inevitable under the circumstances. And because of that, all I can do is assist him – and Detective Ellison – in any way I can should they be unable to continue with the bond. 

“Which means, of course, having to rely on increasing doses of the relevant medication until such time as they are either reconciled or find another compatible partner, which, I suspect, would be near impossible given their respective talents. Am I right, Blair?” 

Thus appealed to, Blair had no option but to offer his opinion, even though walking barefoot on hot coals would probably be less painful. 

Gazing sadly around the room, he forced himself to concentrate on his explanation, knowing that more than his own future and livelihood was at stake. Weighed down by unwanted responsibility, and the unfairness of it all, he found it hard to speak. 

“Having spent several years studying Sentinel culture in both indigenous and modern societies, I have to say that, if I’m honest, I too am guilty of neglecting the instinctive, primitive nature of pure sentinel and guide bonding. In a tribal environment, as I hope Eli will agree, I believe that the sentinel and guide would have been brought together at an early age, and no doubt it would never occur to them to dispute the fact. Tribal Sentinels and their partners were – _are_ – so valued amongst their people that it would be an honour to fulfil that destiny. 

“However, in our so-called ‘civilised’, technologically advanced society, although those with the gift of enhanced senses are still valued for their contribution to that society, there is little real interest in anything but the obvious benefits. We may have tests now to determine if latent sentinel and guide genes are present in individuals, but no one really cares if those individuals choose to ignore the results. Like I did…” he added softly, and he sighed heavily before continuing. 

“What I’m trying to say is that the basic instincts that drive the strongest individuals to mate have been ignored and discounted for too long, and now they have reappeared they are deemed unacceptable in modern eyes. 

“But they _are_ natural instincts, and because of that I cannot in all good conscience accuse Detective Ellison of simple rape. He is, by your own admission, Dr Deacon, one of the strongest Sentinels you have recorded for decades, and it would appear that I have compatible empathy whether I like it or not. He was merely acting on instinct as a consummate hunter and predator, his primal needs too strong to control once he had found his mate. 

“Having said that, although I refuse to press charges, I _do_ blame him to a certain degree.” 

Turning to face Jim, he swallowed audibly as he met Jim’s direct and focussed gaze head-on. However, his voice was firm as he delivered his lesser accusation and his decision. “If you hadn’t been so stubborn in looking for a guide, you wouldn’t have gone primal like that. You should never have tried to go it alone for so long once your senses had come online permanently. By denying your needs, you drove yourself to the limits of your control, and I didn’t stand a chance. 

“And because of that, I’ll never be able to trust you again. My life and my prospects have been changed beyond recognition, but I can’t work with you, man. You hurt me, and overrode my protests. I know you felt guilty immediately after, and I know that under normal circumstances you are an honourable man. The merge told me that much. But right now that doesn’t reassure me any. So even if it means living on drugs for the foreseeable future, that’s what I want to do. I want to salvage as much of my life as possible, while I still can. 

“And it’s up to Dean Rothschild to decide in what capacity I can still be of use to Rainier. If any.” 

Physically and emotionally exhausted, he fell silent, staring down at his tightly clasped hands as he struggled to control the growing pain in his skull. He therefore missed the worried looks he was receiving from all present; only the effects of their sympathy and concern making an impact as they beat against the fraying barriers of his cringing mind. His discomfort was such that he made no protest when Dr Mansfield gently uncurled one of his hands and pressed two tablets into his palm. 

“Take these now, Blair. No arguments,” he murmured kindly but firmly as he passed along a bottle of water. 

And for once arguing was the furthest thing from his mind as Blair gratefully swallowed down the medication, praying that it would kick in fast before his head exploded.  


\------------------------------  


**Jim:**  


From Jim’s point of view, the whole proceedings had been a severe trial. He had been a good soldier, and he was a good cop. He had never shirked his duty, or tried to deny his share of responsibility for actions and orders, however questionable they might be. He considered himself an honourable man, and he wasn’t without a conscience, which was one reason why he often found it hard to reconcile his natural responses with the commands of a so-called superior. And that in turn led to many a guilt trip and sleepless night. But as far as he was concerned, what he had just done was by far the most heinous crime, because it wasn’t in response to any order. It was purely and simply for his own benefit, and for that he couldn’t forgive himself. It was true. Everything that Blair had said. If he hadn’t been influenced by his father, he probably would have accepted his gift, but he was too honest a man to place all the blame on his parent’s shoulders where it no doubt belonged. 

But by constantly allowing his father’s cruel words to direct his life, he had fought against the need for a guide and partner for way too long. And now look what he had done. He had acted like a wild beast, and destroyed a young man’s life. 

He could hardly bear to look at Sandburg’s pale and devastated face, and whether he liked it or not, he could feel the anger and despair clawing along their tenuous, fledgling link however much the smaller man tried to block him. 

Although deeply dismayed at Blair’s decision, Jim could hardly blame him for his choices, even though he knew to the depths of his soul that his Guide’s hopes were unrealistic. So Jim made his own decision. He wouldn’t pursue his claim against Blair’s wishes, but he would make himself available to the young man whenever the pressure of separation grew too much to bear. He would endure his own pain as long as there was a hope, however forlorn, that Blair might forgive him. 

And if his Guide’s worsening condition finally led to a painful and protracted death, then Jim would follow him. And maybe in some weird afterlife or reincarnation he could ask Blair’s forgiveness again, and perhaps make it work next time around. 

Lost in thought, he jerked back to the present when Simon nudged his side none too gently. He saw that Blair was being gently escorted out by Drs Stoddard and Mansfield, but was prevented from following when Dr Deacon addressed him directly again. 

“One moment, Detective Ellison. I know you will no doubt be concerned for Dr Sandburg’s health, but we have yet to hear your response to what you have heard today. Can you offer us any insight into your own state of mind, and can you provide any reassurance that you will not harm your Guide again?” 

It was not in Jim’s nature to grovel or be cowed by disapproval, even though he had no intention of trying to justify his actions. He knew himself to be guilty of unreasonable behaviour, so he straightened up in his seat, and faced his audience with an honest, if stoic expression. 

“First of all, I’m not here to make excuses. I may have had my reasons for trying to suppress my senses for so long, and avoiding the unwanted burden of finding a guide, but they’re not important now. What is important is that Dr Sandburg was quite correct in his explanation of what happened, and I was, indeed, totally out of control. It sickens me to know that I acted in a manner more suited to the jungle, but what’s done is done, and I shall do my utmost to support and respect Blair’s decision. 

“I assure you that I shall not attempt to approach Blair unless he requests it, or try to guilt him into bonding with me, even though the enforced separation will be hard for both of us – probably more so for a Guide, especially one of Blair’s calibre. But it is his choice to try, and I have to admire him for that. 

“As for me, I shall also try to continue in my role as a police officer for as long as I can – if Captain Banks is in agreement, that is – and after that, well, time will tell. I already know how the dampening meds work for me – or not, as the case may be – so I don’t expect an easy time of it now I’m fully online and supposedly bonded. I just pray that Blair doesn’t suffer too much because of my actions, although I fear that that hope is equally unrealistic.” 

As he finished speaking, he noted that there was a distinct softening in the attitudes of both Dean Rothschild and Mary Deacon, and a sideways glance at Simon revealed an expression of both approval and resignation on his friend’s face. It was more than he would have expected, having anticipated total condemnation, and he was relieved even as he considered himself unworthy of such understanding. But on the plus side, at least there was a chance that he might receive some little support should he try to help Blair, rather than an unbending blockade, and for that he was grateful. 

Nodding briskly, Dr Deacon responded. “Thank you for your candour, Detective Ellison. I believe you mean what you say, and appreciate your unselfishness. It is yet to be seen if your instincts will allow you to follow your proposed course of action, but I know you will do your best, and hope that your best will be enough. There must be absolutely no chance of a repeat of such an attack. 

“And now I think we have covered all we are able to do at this time. And I should like to say that I still hope and pray for a satisfactory resolution to this situation despite everything. Good day, gentlemen,” and she rose from her seat and left the room, leaving a very relieved but conflicted sentinel in her wake.  


\---------------------------------  


As it turned out, Jim’s resolution was sorely tested within five minutes of leaving Dean Rothschild’s office. As he and Simon made their way down the main corridor, Jim was drawn to a smaller office, knowing that his Guide was within and hurting. Ignoring Simon’s frown, Jim peered around the door, and his heart clenched in pity at the sight before him. 

Blair was seated on what looked like a visitors’ chair, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands were fisted at his temples, the fingers clutching a handful of curls as he appeared to be trying to control the pounding in his head by force. Almost sub-vocal whimpers bore testament to his pain, and it was all Jim could do not to rush straight in and take the young man in his arms. A worried-looking Eli Stoddard crouched before his former student and friend, obviously trying to offer comfort. 

“Hold on, dear boy. Just a few more minutes until Dr Mansfield gets back with the stronger medication. I’m sure it’ll help, Blair. You just need a higher dose than he anticipated.” 

Just then he looked up, aware that they were being observed from the doorway. 

“What are you doing here, Detective? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t approach Blair unless asked? Or have you forgotten your promise already?” The antipathy on the older man’s face made little impression on Jim, whose attention was purely focussed on the hurting Guide. 

Stepping into the room, Jim forced himself to stand still while he addressed the smaller man in a gentle and persuasive tone. Sandburg finally acknowledged his presence, and looked up, his face reflecting fear as well as excruciating pain and misery. 

“Let me help you, Blair. I promise I won’t come any closer until you say so, but you can’t suffer like this. I know the Doc’s getting you some stronger meds, but you shouldn’t be hurting like this so soon. Let me just offer you some relief while I’m here. It doesn’t have to be anything more than a touch and linking with me so I can strengthen your barriers for a while. 

“Don’t be afraid, kiddo. Simon and Dr Stoddard won’t let anything happen to you, and I promise I have no intention of getting into your head again. Just let me help this once.” 

For a long moment he thought that his offer had fallen on deaf ears, and half expected an abrupt dismissal, but then Blair nodded once, his tortured expression resigned as he leaned infinitesimally towards Jim. Ignoring the hand Simon extended automatically to halt his progress, Jim took two long strides into the room, and crouched down in front of Blair, carelessly usurping Stoddard’s place. Reaching out unthreateningly, he gently touched his fingertips to Blair’s temples, murmuring encouragingly, “OK, Chief? Relax, and link with me. Let me heal you, Blair.” 

For a split second, it looked as if Blair might pull back after all, but practicality won out, and he did as he was bid, and relaxed into the touch. And for several blissful moments, the two were united again, and while Jim’s senses basked in the proximity of his Guide, Blair’s shields were recharged, and the tumultuous external emotions battering him were held at bay once more. 

However, all too soon reality crashed back in, and Blair withdrew, anxiety once more clouding his mobile features. 

“Um, thanks, man. I feel much better now, and I appreciate the help, honestly. But this can’t happen again, Detective. Do you understand?” 

The plea was unmistakable so Jim backed off, sorrow and resignation uppermost in his expression. 

“I understand, Chief. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Not unless you ask it. It was just that, well, since I was here anyway, and you needed help…?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. But I’ll be OK now. Goodbye, Detective.” Blair’s voice was firm and uncompromising even though his eyes were soft and luminous as they met Jim’s. 

And there really wasn’t anything else to say, so Jim turned away, and left the room, Simon’s large hand squeezing his shoulder in tacit sympathy.  


\-------------------------------  


**Part 3: Crisis Point:**  


**Three Weeks Later: Blair:**  


Seated behind the desk in his new office, Blair let his throbbing head drop into his hands, his elbows propped on the smooth, relatively uncluttered surface. The generous space had been automatically assigned to him on receipt of his PhD, on the assumption that he would be commencing his permanent position immediately, but even though he had more than appreciated the gesture, Blair knew his occupancy was doomed to be short-lived. Despite his determination, and his best intentions, he had been woefully incapable of even living up to his – and the Dean’s – revised and modest expectations, and his health had deteriorated far more rapidly than he had hoped. In plain terms, the medication presently available to him was insufficient to cope with managing his unexpectedly high empathic capability even for the predicted short-term, so he had gone downhill fast. Within days of his last meeting with Jim, the low-grade, permanent headache had set in, which escalated all too frequently into agonising spikes of pain despite the meds. The debilitating effects were so great that Eli had insisted that Blair move in with him permanently, even though the younger man had been profoundly ashamed and embarrassed when he had reluctantly been forced to accept. 

Between Stoddard’s assistance, and that of Marcus, who was only too willing to share the burden, Blair had managed to continue to function after a fashion, but his innate independence had taken a severe beating, and he knew that, even with such unconditional help, his days in the new office were numbered. He couldn’t even cope with the most basic duties, so felt obliged to leave before Dean Rothschild was forced to give him his marching orders. It simply wasn’t fair to keep trying to fulfil his promise when he felt so ill, so with resignation, and great sadness, he straightened in his seat, psyching himself up for the short walk to the Dean’s office where he would regretfully hand in his notice. 

He suspected that the man would be deeply relieved, but, had he but known it, that wouldn’t have actually been the case. Blair’s lack of self-esteem tended to blind him to the fact that the vast majority of his friends, acquaintances, and students actually cared deeply for their favourite young professor. They were dismayed at the abrupt extinguishing of his inner sparkle, and the obvious lack of physical vitality that had accompanied it, and the fact that he looked as if he had aged ten years within a matter of days. The batteries in their ‘Energiser Bunny’ friend had finally gone flat, and his every movement now was slow and tentative like those of an old man. All he knew was that his concentration was shot, and that looking at a computer screen for more than a few minutes gave him a migraine. Prolonged reading was agony, and he couldn’t even lecture, as the emotional output of a hall full of students was enough to bring him to his knees, medication notwithstanding. 

Yet despite everything, it never occurred to him to approach Jim. He hadn’t heard anything from the big cop since their last meeting, so he had assumed that the Sentinel was coping far better than he was. It was part pride, part fear and part anger that held him back, but it was the certainty that Ellison was better off without him that clinched the deal. He wasn’t about to go cap in hand to the man who had raped him and set all this in motion after all, and if that meant that he was doomed to an early – and probably painful – death, then so be it. 

What was it Naomi used to say? _Better to die standing than live on your knees._ Yeah, that was it. 

Knew a thing or two did his Mom, despite the ditz. _I suppose I should try and contact her – let her know what’s happened. Wonder what she’ll make of it all? I guess there’ll be a lot of sage burning in my future._

Chuckling sardonically to himself, he prepared to stand when there was a knock on his door. 

And when he called out ‘Enter’, a figure he least expected to see stepped into the room. 

Captain Simon Banks.  


\------------------------  


As Simon approached Sandburg’s office, his always volatile temper was barely being kept under control. Seething with anger, righteous indignation and real anxiety on behalf of his friend and subordinate, he had every intention of confronting the elusive Guide and demanding his cooperation. As far as Simon was concerned, Jim’s desperately poor condition was bad enough now to warrant Sandburg’s intervention, even though Jim had asked Simon specifically not to trouble the younger man. He simply wasn’t prepared to stand by and let a good man fade away without doing his utmost to save him. Sandburg _would_ listen to him, and he _would_ fix Jim. 

And then Simon would insist they sit down together and try and work out some sort of acceptable compromise, because it was ludicrous in his opinion to let two such gifted people continue to suffer unnecessarily. 

However, when he pushed open the door on Sandburg’s invitation, he was taken aback by the sight that met his eyes. Somehow he had expected Sandburg to be if not actually bursting with energy and good health, then at least functioning adequately, and he had been prepared to be less than charitable in his approach. But this Sandburg was a pitiful sight to be sure. The pale features were drawn and etched with the marks of continuous pain, and he had plainly lost weight he could ill afford to lose. The huge blue eyes were clouded with sorrow and suffering, and the abundant curls hung lank and lifeless about his face. Although his clothing was neat and clean, it was obvious he took no interest in his appearance, and Simon felt his heart swell in sympathy for the broken young man. 

As Simon watched, the small figure deliberately straightened in his seat and attempted to offer his visitor a warm smile of welcome, even if it fell somewhat flat, and the big captain experienced a surge of reluctant admiration at Blair’s courageous effort to be courteous to someone he undoubtedly didn’t want to see. 

“Um, Captain Banks. I didn’t expect to see you here again. What can I do for you? Is there something you wanted to ask me?” 

The voice was rougher than Simon remembered, even though it was still rich and compelling, and he decided there and then to be much more circumspect and tactful in his explanation for his presence. He had fully intended to come straight out with describing Jim’s dire condition, wanting to guilt the Guide into acquiescing to his demands, but this fragile young man didn’t deserve such a hard-nosed and blunt attack. On the other hand, mere seconds later he could tell that adopting a more sympathetic approach would be unnecessary after all. Sandburg seemed to realise instinctively that something was badly wrong, and his next words confirmed it. 

“It’s Jim, isn’t it? What happened? Is he OK?” The shock and concern on the pale face was genuine, and Simon knew then and there that he would do everything in his power to help both men. Blair was in just as poor a shape as was Jim, and the captain realised that it was up to him to get both men together, get them to fix each other if it was at all possible at this late stage, and then convince them to settle their differences somehow so that this awful state of affairs never happened again. 

“Yes, Dr Sandburg, I’m afraid you’re right. Jim is in very poor shape, and I believe you’re the only one who can help him now. Are you prepared to try? Because it seems to me that you need it just as much as he does, am I right?” 

Pain-filled, round eyes regarded him searchingly for a moment, then Blair reached out a trembling hand for the bottle of pills within easy reach on the desktop beside him. He took a few seconds to shake two out, then poured a small glass of water from the carafe next to it in what was obviously a familiar routine. Swallowing the meds down, he raised his head to meet Simon’s perplexed gaze again, a new determination in his posture. 

“Tell me everything, Captain Banks. I need to know. Just how bad is Jim?” 

And that was all the invitation Simon needed, so sitting down in the chair Blair indicated, he began. 

He told Blair how the detective had insisted on returning to work, despite the antipathy that greeted him on his arrival at Major Crimes. Word had spread quickly about what he had done, and far too many of his so-called friends and colleagues had been swift to judge him. Even those who had a greater knowledge of sentinel and guide partnerships found it hard to justify such an uncontrolled primal attack, since no such occurrence had been recorded in many years. It was as well that Jim had always preferred to work alone anyway, and he had declared that he would continue to do so for as long as he could without endangering anyone else. 

Noting the quizzical expression on Sandburg’s face, Simon explained how Jim had managed to function for longer than anticipated, simply by employing his Guide’s scent. 

“You see, he told me that he had kept the sheets from the night he – um - _bonded_ with you. He was ashamed at his need, but as long as enough of your scent remained, he could use it to ground him. But all too soon the scent faded, or was overridden by his own, and that’s when his control started to slip again. 

“As soon as that started to happen, he voluntarily agreed to desk duty, but soon even that became too much. The normal bullpen activity was overpowering him, so a few days ago he went on sick leave. He refused to let me help him, or persuade him to come and stay with me, just said he’d be better off at home. I know that he was afraid that he might succumb to temptation and try to approach you if the feral Sentinel took over again, so he virtually barricaded himself into the loft. 

“Anyhow, I insisted that he call me every day to let me know how he was doing, and when I didn’t get that call yesterday morning, I went to the loft to see for myself. And I found him sitting out on the balcony, zoned more deeply than I’ve ever seen before. Probably for hours; maybe even all night, judging by how cold he was. I’m pretty certain he’d done it on purpose, so I called Dr Mansfield at Cascade General. 

“The upshot is that, because nothing anyone did seemed to get through to him and medication was equally useless, he was transported to a hospice that has the facilities to cater for distressed sentinels and guides. He’s there now; still unmoving and according to his carers, fading away by the hour. They’ve managed to warm him up some, but he’s on a respirator now, and they have no idea how long he has. 

“Can you help, Blair? Are you prepared to try?” And Simon had no qualms about letting Blair hear the entreaty in his voice for what it was. A desperate plea to save his friend. 

He had barely uttered the last word when Blair staggered awkwardly to his feet. 

“Let’s go, man. Take me to him. Every second counts…” The selfless determination in the young Guide’s voice and expression was compelling even though his physical condition was sadly lacking, so Simon sprang to his feet to wrap a supportive arm around Blair’s slender waist. His own relief was palpable at Sandburg’s swift acceptance of the situation, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity to save both men from themselves and their own obstinacy. 

“You got it, son. Just lean on me, and I’ll get you there.”  


\------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, Jim’s room, Cascade Heights Hospice:**  


“Oh, man! Oh, Jim, what have you done?” Blair breathed the soft words as he paused just inside the door of Jim’s room, leaning heavily on the powerful arm supporting him. His face was suffused with sympathy and anxiety, and not a little irritation that this strong man – this talented Sentinel – should have allowed himself to come to this. But what else should he have expected? He already knew that the detective was a decent and honourable man, so it was hardly surprising that he should zone deliberately rather than risk a repeat of the feral behaviour that had almost destroyed them both. Now the weight of decision was placed firmly on Blair’s shoulders, and he knew that both their fates depended on his choice. It was a heavy burden, and later he might well resent its imposition, but for now he had to act quickly and worry about the consequences later. 

Because there was no way he would let Ellison die if he had anything to do with it. Suddenly he knew that, as far as he was concerned, right now there was no other choice to make. First and foremost he was Guide to this Sentinel, and he knew where his duty lay. 

Pushing away from Simon Banks’ hold, Blair made his way somewhat shakily, but determinedly over to the hospital bed where the pale, unmoving figure lay; the hiss of the respirator that breathed for him and the soft bleeping of the monitors to which Ellison was attached the only sounds that broke the oppressive silence. 

Reaching the head of the bed, Blair gazed sadly down at the pale, calm face, thinking that the big cop already looked more corpse-like than alive, and his heart was filled with sorrow. Shutting out everything other than his immediate duty, he concentrated all his attention on the man in the bed. He reached for the visitor’s chair nearby, and pulled it over so that he was seated as close to Jim as he could get without actually climbing on the bed with him. Then he placed a cool palm on the smooth forehead, while rubbing his other palm gently up and down Jim’s arm. 

“Come on, man. This isn’t the way. Come on back to me, Jim. You can’t do this. Your tribe needs you. _I_ need you, even if it isn’t in the way you’d like. We can get through this, Jim. But only if you come back. Come on, Jim. I know you can hear me. Follow my voice. Feel my hands on you. Smell me…” and he leaned forward and breathed gently into Jim’s nostrils. 

He kept up his litany for several minutes, until he was suddenly aware of a slight twitch in the arm beneath his palm, and seconds later, Jim’s nose wrinkled as a frown line appeared between his brows. 

“That’s it, Big Guy. You’re nearly there,” Blair crooned, voicing his encouragement as he ran his hand gently over Jim’s short, soft hair. He was rewarded by the fluttering of Jim’s eyelids, which then cracked open to reveal a glimpse of ice blue. 

Suddenly, Jim coughed around the respirator tube in his throat, a flash of panic in his eyes as he jerked to full consciousness. 

“It’s OK, Jim,” Blair reassured him hurriedly. “You weren’t breathing, so the medics put you on a respirator. We’ll get it removed as soon as they know you’re breathing for yourself again.” 

Jim calmed somewhat, although he still looked very uncomfortable. He met Blair’s gaze, and the questions in his eyes were plain to see. 

“Look, man, I’ll get the doc, OK? Then once the tube’s out, I’ll explain everything, OK?” Blair’s nervousness was back now Jim seemed to be out of danger, but he patted the big cop’s shoulder as he turned to look at Simon, who was still standing guard by the door, having watched the interaction in silent hope and fear. 

Offering them both a wide smile of pure joy, the tall captain addressed Blair first. “It’s OK, kid. I’ll get the doc. And well done, son. I’m proud of you! 

“And as for you, Ellison, don’t ever do that to me again, OK? Took ten years off my life finding you like that!” The scolding tone was offset by his palpable pleasure and relief, and he was grinning fit to burst as he exited the room to locate the doctor. 

Left alone with Jim, Blair squirmed a little in his seat, self-consciously removing his hands from Jim’s body; his eyes sliding away from Jim’s penetrating gaze. Now Jim was awake and aware again, all his fears and uncertainty were coming back with a vengeance, and he wasn’t at all sure how he was going to be able to continue with this meeting. 

But now he had a chance to consider it, he realised that he felt so much better in himself already. Just being in Jim’s presence was shielding him so that his headache was gone, and he felt genuinely hungry again. And even without linking with him, he could tell that the Sentinel was relaxing comfortably now, so his senses must be appreciating the grounding influence of the Guide’s proximity. 

And that was all very well, but where in the goddess’ name were they to go from here? That was the sixty four thousand dollar question, and right now, Blair didn’t want to think about it. 

His anxious musing was interrupted by the entrance of Dr Mansfield and a nurse, who preceded Simon into the room. The doctor’s kindly face was wreathed in smiles, and he approached the bed with alacrity. 

“Sentinel Ellison! I’m so glad to see you awake again. I’ll have that tube out in a jiffy, then we’ll get you checked over properly. But I think this young man has already done what was needed, eh?” and he patted Blair’s shoulder amicably. 

“If you could give us just a little space, young man, we’ll get Jim sorted and comfortable, OK?” 

Blair offered him a small smile and nod of assent, and he stood up, intending to move away, only to be pinned by Jim’s worried gaze. 

“Um, it’s OK, Jim. I won’t go until we’ve had our discussion, OK, man? I promised we’d talk, and I meant it.” His words obviously reassured the Sentinel, who relaxed again, and settled back, anxious to get the respirator and monitors removed so he could thank his Guide properly.  


\---------------------------  


A short while later, Jim was resting comfortably, having had the respirator and monitors removed, plus the hated catheter. Dr Mansfield had checked him over thoroughly, and declared himself to be very satisfied with his patient’s progress; certainly well enough to continue to visit with Simon and his Guide. Blair had moved back to his seat at the head of the bed, although Jim couldn’t help but notice that the young man was a little further away this time, and Simon had pulled up another chair at the other side. However, although Simon was still grinning happily from ear to ear, Blair was noticeably more nervous again, and plainly reluctant to start the ball rolling in their upcoming discussion. Instead, he stared down at his hands with apparent fascination, unable to meet Jim’s searching gaze, even though he was uncomfortably aware of the ice blue eyes boring into him. 

Finally, Jim had had enough of the tense silence, and spoke up, addressing the smaller man gently but firmly. 

“OK, Chief, enough of this. You said you were willing to talk, so talk. You went to a lot of trouble to bring me back, Chief, and I’m very grateful to you, but not if it means we’re going to go back to square one with our relationship. Because if that’s what you intend, then I wish you’d left me alone. 

“Come on, babe. Look at me, and tell me how you want to progress this.” 

Twisting his hands together anxiously, and unconsciously worrying his bottom lip, Blair took a moment longer to pull his thoughts together before looking up and meeting Jim’s concerned but kind gaze. 

“Um, I’m sorry, man, but I’m not really sure. I mean, I knew I had to bring you back, man. You’re an Alpha Sentinel, and far too valuable to let slip away. When Captain Banks came to me and explained the situation, I didn’t need to think about it. I just reacted, which, I guess, is proof that I really am your Guide. 

“But I still feel the same way about you, Jim. I’m afraid for you, but I’m also scared _of_ you, and I don’t know if I can get over that. I feel so conflicted. I know now that I need you in order to survive, even as I know you need me, but I don’t know whether that’s enough for me to accept more than a formal working relationship with you. 

“I’m sorry…” and he looked down at his hands again, a blush of shame pinking his cheeks. 

When there was no response, after a long moment he glanced up again, and was shocked at the predatory gleam in the Sentinel’s eyes. Although Jim quickly got himself under control, it was too late, and Blair leapt to his feet, skittering backwards as he held up his hands in a warding gesture. 

All his fears were instantly reignited as he flashed back to their traumatic bonding, and the scent of distress and dread rolled off him in waves as he backed hurriedly away towards the door. 

“Oh, no! Nonononono! Don’t touch me, man! Don’t come anywhere near me!” Suddenly he backed up against a hard chest, and squeaked in terror as Simon’s big hands came up to grasp his upper arms, halting his retreat. 

“Let me go! Let me go, now! Help me, someone!” and he struggled wildly in the tall man’s powerful grip. 

“Easy, Sandburg. Hold still, son. I’m not going to hurt you,” Simon’s deep voice rumbled in his ear, and Blair gradually ceased to struggle as he reached out with his mind and realised that the man truly meant him no harm. 

Still panting harshly, he stilled and nodded his head quickly, sincerely grateful when the large hands dropped down to Simon’s sides, and Blair was able to step quickly away from him. 

For several minutes, a bizarre kind of stand-off existed between the three, with Blair glancing nervously from the big captain to Jim and back, Jim having pulled himself upright in bed, but otherwise refraining from approaching his Guide. He knew he had blown it, and was furious with himself. The sudden upsurge of primal possessiveness had caught him unawares, and he had been unable to quell it before Blair noticed, and now it looked as if he had managed to destroy the fragile chance of ever making anything of their relationship. 

Then Blair took them both by surprise, and Jim grasped gratefully at the straw of hope that the young man held out to him. Voice breaking but still determined, the young Guide addressed them, his eyes pleading for understanding as he explained what he intended to do. 

“I’m sorry, Jim, Captain. I…I can’t stay. I have a lot to think about…to arrange. I know now that we need each other, Sentinel, but you just proved my point. You’re a dangerous man, Jim, when your feral instincts surface and I don’t know how to cope with it – or even whether I can cope with it. I need time to process. 

“But if you’ll give me that time, I promise I’ll come back with my decision. Just give me tonight to think things through, and I’ll come back to see you before we both start going into melt-down again. 

“Will you give me that time?” and the plea in his voice was heartbreakingly poignant. 

So what else could Jim do but agree? He was, after all, being granted a reprieve of which he believed himself unworthy, so he nodded his assent. 

“OK, kiddo. And thank you for not running away screaming, never to be seen again. I don’t deserve your understanding and compassion, but I’m truly grateful for it all the same. Just don’t let yourself suffer, Blair. Come see me as soon as you can, and we’ll take it from there.” 

And with another brisk nod, Blair turned on his heel and left the room, his footsteps echoing in the corridor outside as he almost ran for the exit. 

Turning back to face Jim, Simon spoke up, his expression a mix of worry, reproach and exasperation. 

“You’re a lucky man, Ellison. I never would have given that young man credit for standing up to you like that, and I hope you appreciate the courage it took. I can’t believe that you could have reacted like that so soon after he brought you back from beyond, so to speak. What were you thinking?” 

“That’s just it, Simon,” Jim replied tiredly. “I _wasn’t_ thinking! For a second, all I wanted to do was grab him and imprint him. The bond was calling to me, and what we’d just done was just enough to set off the whole primal reaction again. It was what I was telling you about, Simon. What I was afraid of. And apparently I’m right to be. I can’t put him through that again, but I can’t live without him. 

“And he can’t live without me. We’re pretty much screwed, aren’t we?” and his shoulders slumped in dejection. 

And this time there was sympathy and understanding in his captain’s voice as the older man responded. “Don’t give up so soon, Jim. Yes, you scared the poor kid nearly out of his wits again, but he didn’t run. He was brave enough to offer you another chance, and you’ll be doing him a great disservice if you don’t allow him time to get his head around it. 

“Let’s see what he comes up with tomorrow, OK? And in the meantime, how about we get you out of here?” 

And with a sad smile, Jim agreed. What else could he do?  


\----------------------------------  


**Epilogue: A Glimpse of Hope:**  


**Following morning, Simon Banks’ office, Cascade PD MCU:**  


Jim, Blair and Simon sat toying with cups of Simon’s gourmet coffee, while an uneasy silence reigned. Earlier that morning, Blair had called the Captain, requesting that they meet in his office in Major Crimes, as he didn’t feel comfortable or confident enough to arrange to meet up at the loft, or, indeed, at Rainier. Simon’s office was as near to neutral territory as he could come up with at short notice, so he was grateful when Banks had agreed to his request. He had done some hard thinking overnight, and had talked things through with Eli and Marcus, and although he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, he had, at least, arrived with a proposition that he hoped would satisfy them all for the time being. 

Realising he couldn’t put off their discussion any longer, he raised his head and regarded the older men, shocked to note that they were easily as unsettled as he was, if not more so, and that realisation boosted his flagging confidence enough to begin. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he glanced from Jim to Simon and back, his expression one of equal parts fear, anger and determination. 

As he spoke, both men leaned forward slightly in their seats in anticipation; Jim in particular unable to keep the trepidation from his face. 

“OK, man. This is how it’s going to be. I agree to work with you as your Guide, and I’ll even sign up as a civilian consultant to the PD if required. But I’m not giving up Rainier completely. Eli says I can teach part-time, and now my doctorate’s done, I might sign up for extra courses in Forensic Anthropology or Criminology if it’ll help with my work here. I shall do whatever it takes to fulfil my role in a working partnership. 

“But you will NEVER force me again, Jim. You will NEVER treat me like your personal punching bag, fuck toy or possession again. Bonding will be on my terms, and only when we need it until I can trust you not to attack me again. 

“Because if you do, then I’m out of here, even if it means living out the rest of my miserable days drugged to the gills, and you’re on your own. 

“But if you accept my terms, then I’m prepared to try and make a go of this partnership. And I hope you’ll believe me when I say I truly want that, Jim. I don’t make such offers or decisions lightly.” 

Winding down, he sat back in his seat, emotionally exhausted but proud that he’d managed to have his say without breaking down or wimping out. 

Regarding Blair steadily, Jim’s own expression was one of pure relief and sheer admiration for the young man’s spirit. OK, it was hardly a ringing endorsement for their future together, but he would take what he could get. And at least there was a chance of a future after all. 

Profoundly grateful for his Guide’s capacity for forgiveness, he nodded eagerly, offering Blair a warm smile as he replied wholeheartedly, “Thank you, Blair. I appreciate your generosity, truly. And I agree to you terms, Chief. Thank you, my Guide.” 

As for Simon, he released an almost silent sigh of relief at Blair’s words. Although nothing was written in stone, there was at least some real hope now for Major Crimes’ Sentinel and Guide pair, and for that, Blair deserved his undying gratitude and support.  


**The End.**


End file.
